Gentlemen of Fortune
by kishiria
Summary: NOW COMPLETE. Sequel to "Not Looking For A Love Affair". Gato's life goes from bad to worse when he joins the Cima Fleet.
1. Default Chapter

[Author's Notes: I don't own Gundam, as if you didn't know that. I also don't own Gato's wingman; that person is intellectual property of His Divine Shadow. So with no further ado...]  
  
GENTLEMEN OF FORTUNE  
  
Anavel Gato stood on the pavement in the early morning gloom, looking up at a dark window on an apartment building. Inside, his erstwhile lover of a year, Nina Purpleton, was deeply asleep. He still had the image of her fresh in his mind from a few minutes ago; tousled blonde hair on the pillow, blanket pulled up over her pale bare shoulders, her face peaceful in slumber.  
  
He looked down at the dufflebag at his feet. Best not to dwell, he thought to himself. If he lingered, there was the chance that he might go back to her. He picked up the bag and walked a couple of blocks before standing on the curb and hailing a taxi.  
  
"Where to?" the cabbie asked.  
  
Gato fished a paper out of his jacket pocket. "Port of Von Braun, slip 94. I have to be there before 8."  
  
"Plenty of time." The cabbie turned on the meter and the car started rolling.  
  
The driver didn't seem inclined to talk, which suited Gato fine. The duffle was heavy on his lap but he didn't want to let it go. As he rode away, he was not only leaving a very emotional year, but his best friend as well as his lover. The friend, Lt. Kelly Layzner, was probably already awake. It was possible he'd never gone to bed. He and Gato had been together since the end of the One Year War, facing homelessness and hardship side by side until Laetura Chapra, the woman who would eventually become Kelly's wife, let them move into her apartment. Leaving Nina gave Gato mixed emotional reactions. True, he loved her, but she was such a workaholic, and unsympathetic to the things that caused him pain, that their separation was more or less necessary if either of them were to stay sane.  
  
The idea of leaving Kelly, though, made Gato's eyes burn with tears. His hands tightened on the bag, which held some photos of the two of them. Someday they would fight together side by side. Kelly was rebuilding a mobile armour in his warehouse. With it he would join the Delaz fleet and they would be comrades in arms once again.  
  
"22 credits, sir," the cabbie said.  
  
"Oh!" Gato hadn't even realized they'd arrived. He reached into his pocket and gave the man 30 for the speed of the ride, and for leaving him alone with his thoughts.  
  
Alone on the pavement he told himself, finally. Finally, he was re-joining his people the Jions, and they would soon bring revenge upon the Federation.  
  
Unbidden, the image of the sleeping Nina came back to his mind. Gato shook his head violently and approached the slip.  
  
The man who came to meet him was short and square, with a wide face and curly hair. It was the sort of face that normally was likable, but in this case he emanated untrustworthiness. "Are you the package?" He didn't try to shake Gato's hand.  
  
Gato felt the corners of his mouth twist. "I'm Commander Gato."  
  
"I'm Kult. That all your luggage?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Then come aboard." He turned around and led Gato towards the shuttle. Inside, Gato could tell it was the standard kind carried by Jion battleships, despite how it was disguised as a cargo vessel.  
  
"You go back there," Kult told him before Gato could say any words of greeting to the pilots. He went to where Kult indicated, and found himself in a small cabin containing a bunk, a locker, and nothing else.  
  
"This'll be home for you for a day or so, until we meet up with the fleet," Kult told him. "Make yourself comfy." He shut the door with a slam. Gato snarled and reached for the handle, but found himself locked in.  
  
Panic rose in his chest. Would the Cima fleet really carry him to the Garden of Thorns? He was a respected Jion officer, but he was being treated like a parcel, something being mailed from one place to another. And if the messenger was untrustworthy, the contents of a parcel could be stolen and used....  
  
Gato dropped onto the bunk. It was strongly rumoured that the Cima fleet had gone pirate. He couldn't know for sure; the local packs of pirates working currently didn't leave survivors. He pulled his knees up to his chin. Could he have followed Tetley's instructions to join Delaz only to be kidnapped and held for ransom?  
  
No one told him anything. The ride was only 28 hours, during which time he was fed, watered, and allowed to use the washroom when he called the bridge to ask. Gato had had the foresight to bring some books, and his old King James, which he'd had since the day he left home for the Academy, was always a comfort to him, although reading it did make him miss his parents.  
  
Still, after a long day and night of reading and napping, Kult knocked on his door. "We're coming up on the Cima Fleet. If you wanna change into uniform, now's the time."  
  
Gato nodded. Everyone knew the bloody reputation of Lt. Colonel Cima "the Butcher of Iffish" Garahau. As such, it would perhaps be the wisest thing to meet her in uniform as a sign of respect.  
  
Not that he minded a chance to get back into his true skin, as it were.  
  
With Kult gone, he opened the plastic box in which his uniform lay. He stripped down to his briefs, then put on the collarless button-down shirt that was standard underneath a Jion uniform. The green trousers were tight in the waist; he'd gained weight during his year with Nina but was confident he could lose it again. He slipped the suspenders over his shoulders and reached for the tunic. Again, it was tight, but as he buttoned the cape and panels to the shoulders and slid on the epaulets, he felt a surge of pride that he hadn't realized he'd lost in his time as mailroom worker for Anaheim Electronics.  
  
He had to undo his waistband to pull on his boots, but once he finished dressing, he felt like himself again. He remained standing as Kult opened the door.  
  
The squat man looked him up and down. "You've been hitting the burritos there, haven't you, Gato?"  
  
Gato's eyes narrowed. "You should talk."  
  
"Least I'm wearing the same size I was at the beginning of the war. We've docked in the Lili Marlene, lead ship of the fleet. Ms Cima's waiting for you on the bridge."  
  
Gato stepped past him. "Ms Cima? Don't you mean Colonel Garahau?"  
  
Kult shrugged. "Whatever. We're all from Mahal here, and calling a lady Ms plus her first name is always polite there." His expression suddenly twisted with grief. "Or it was."  
  
Gato felt a moment of sympathy for the man, then squashed it. They were all exiles now, and if the Mahalians were double exiles because their colony had been made into Giren Zabi's giant laser, they could at least reflect on the fact that it had gone to strong use against the Federation.  
  
"You need to be shown up to the bridge?" Kult asked.  
  
"I know the layout of a Zanzibar well enough," Gato told him. "Or is there anything you don't want me to see?"  
  
"Nah."  
  
Gato nodded and left the shuttle. He floated a couple of feet over the hangar floor towards the exit hatch.  
  
Signs of poverty were clear, though. The corridors were poorly lit, as more than half the light fixtures were missing fluorescent tubes. The place was clean, but it smelled as if it was being maintained with water and vinegar rather than the usual industrial cleansers. Some hatches and doors were propped open, having broken their mechanisms. The Lili Marlene was not a place he was going to want to occupy for long, even though it seemed her crew was doing their best to keep her functioning.  
  
The elevator wasn't working, so he ended up detouring up a staircase to main deck. At this, Gato had to pause for a moment, struck with nostalgia.  
  
The room clearly saw a great deal of traffic, going by how paths were worn into the burgundy carpeting. They led past a bulkhead paneled in cherrywood, at the centre of which was a round, sculpted white medallion of the fleet's titulary commander, Kishiria Zabi. The war flag of Jion and Kishiria's personal standard were on poles on either side of it. Beside those were glass cases holding photographs related to the history of the ship.  
  
Gato couldn't resist taking a brief peek at these. There was Degin Zabi, of blessed memory, overseeing the laying of the ceremonial keel. There were a few of the ship being built, then a photo of Kishiria smashing a bottle of champagne over the finished ship's nose. There was a photo of the crew, including Cima Garahau herself, standing in front of it.  
  
There were a few more which looked as if they were dated to around the end of 0078. After that, the photos conspicuously stopped. Not much in their past in the way of treasured memories, Gato reasoned. He moved on to some models of the ships of the fleet and was examining those when a woman's voice startled him.  
  
"I come here and reminisce, too."  
  
Gato jumped and turned to look behind him. Cima Garahau was smiling at him, a smug little turn of her lips. The Butcher of Iffish wasn't quite what he'd pictured. She was in early middle age, he could tell, and almost as tall as he was. Black hair fell in a cascade to her hips, framing a face that was classically beautiful except for a chin that was a little too large for perfection. He couldn't tell what kind of body she had since she was draped to her knees in a reddish-brown cloak.  
  
"Colonel Garahau." He bowed slightly and she nodded her head in recognition. "These are fine souvenirs of Jion's happier days, and a reminder of things to come."  
  
"You can cut the crap, Gato. That sort of line might fly on Axis, but not here. Yes, these are memories of happier days, but those are done. As for what our future will be, I don't know. It doesn't involve Axis. Not for us poor bastards."  
  
"I'm sure that Her Majesty's government could be convinced--"  
  
Cima held up a hand. "We wouldn't necessarily want it to be. What we want now is a home that doesn't move constantly through space is all."  
  
"There's a lot of us in Von Braun."  
  
"Von Braun's not a bad place, but there are just too many of us in this fleet for the one city to handle us. A nice little tropical island would do. But enough of that. Come up to the bridge, I'll introduce you to the crew."  
  
Gato followed her. The door slid open onto a bridge that had been standard, once. Now the command chair was more of a couch, draped in a white tigerskin. Behind the command couch was a large canvas of a stormy sea.  
  
If the bridge had been made fancier, the crew had not. They were all wearing their uniform tunics open over their undershirts, showing the ID discs that hung around their necks. Sleeves were rolled up or torn out completely.  
  
"I'll introduce you to the team," she said to Gato. "Here's Shiro Takagawa and Michael Zuzumbe, the operators. Logan Ximenez, communications. And these two fine lads at the wheel are Daryl Fried and Gordon Macmillan. Gentlemen, this is Anavel Gato. He's going to be riding with the fleet for a bit."  
  
Variations of "Hi, Gato!" filled the air.  
  
"And this is my executive officer, Deitrov Kosell," Cima said, dropping down into her seat and gesturing to the man who sat at the side of the dais.  
  
Kosell rose to his feet and Gato wondered how he could have missed him before. While Dozel Zabi had been a much larger man than Kosell, the key word here was that Dozel had been an enormous man. Lt. Kosell came across as being more of a building. He was in his late forties with grey hair and a craggy, aquiline face. Despite his age, his body was made of cabled muscle, displayed by his sleeveless, open tunic worn without a t-shirt beneath. He stepped in between Gato and Cima without saying a word. Even without speech, his message was clear: I am the alpha male. Fuck with my bitch and you die.  
  
"I am very pleased to meet you, Mr. Kosell," Gato said.  
  
Kosell grunted.  
  
"So, what are our plans?" Gato said.  
  
"Our plans are to collect our paycheques," Cima told him, slinging her legs over the arms of her command chair. "I don't know what you have in mind."  
  
Gato's mouth went dry. "I was told you'd be conveying me to the Delaz fleet."  
  
"Oh yes. That. We'll get you there, don't worry, but this is a tramp fleet now, not Federal Express. To reach Delaz we need fuel, water, and food, and we can't just have Kishiria hook us up anymore. You're going to have to be patient."  
  
"Patient? How can I be patient? More than a year I spent in Von Braun, working as a mail clerk, a mail clerk, Garahau, waiting for the time when I could rejoin the fight! Don't make me waste any more time rotting instead of spreading terror among the Feddies!"  
  
Kosell crossed his arms and said in a deep rumble of a voice to Cima, "I think we could put him to work, ma'am."  
  
"I think you might be right, Mr. Kosell." She grinned at Gato. "Get our new recruit a Gelgoog."  
  
"Colonel!" Gato exclaimed.  
  
She looked pensive. "What, you don't want one? I know you'd take care of it. They're priceless at this point; very few exist anymore and none can be replaced."  
  
"I would. I just didn't expect to be taking up arms yet."  
  
"We'll polish the rust off you, don't worry. Mr. Kosell? Could you take Commander Gato to a cabin? I'm sure he'd like to settle in."  
  
"Aye aye, madame Captain."  
  
Gato followed the craggy man to the executive officer's cabin. The front room was an office, as was usual for those of his rank. Before entering, Kosell stopped to touch a small silver tube nailed to the doorframe and raise his fingertips to his lips. Inside, the office was smaller than Cima's would be, with a closed door no doubt leading to Kosell's quarters behind. The man had obviously been there a long time. The desk sported at least one ring stain from a coffee mug and the office chair was worn. There were photos on his desk; Gato was surprised to see Kosell wearing the uniform of a police officer rather than that of a member of the military. He was smiling widely, surrounded by his wife and three teenaged children.  
  
The Cima fleet had been drifting homeless since the war. It would be hard for Kosell to track down his dispersed family at the best of times, seeing as the citizens of Mahal had been scattered among all the cylinders of Side 3. Now, without any stationary place to call home, it would be near impossible. Gato felt a surge of pity for the man; Gato's parents now knew what had become of him. Kosell likely didn't know what had happened to his family, nor they of him.  
  
Kosell sat at his desk and pulled out a paper file, causing Gato to wonder if the computer on the desk was dead. He paged through it and said, "I'm going to put you on the Vera Lynn. There are three suits on board. And you can have cabin G-9." He wrote this down on a pad of yellow paper which he tore off and handed to Gato. "You know where the shuttle bay is, so go there and get one over to the Vera. I'll call over to the skipper and let her know you're coming. Captain Rosco can handle it from there." He peered up hopefully at Gato again. "You wouldn't happen to be Jewish by any chance, would you?"  
  
"Sorry, I'm Lutheran."  
  
Kosell nodded, and Gato felt as if he'd dashed yet another of this man's hopes. "Our congregation hasn't had minyan--prayer quota--since one of the crew deserted last time we put ashore. You've got a good Hebrew name, so I wondered. Anavel: humble one of God." He sniffed a little. "I can tell it don't suit you, though."  
  
Gato thanked him in a mumble and went to the shuttle deck.  
  
***  
  
Captain Rosco was actually a captain. Her title was not just due to her being mistress of the Vera Lynn. The members of the Cima fleet hadn't given themselves promotions as had some of the Jion remnants, it seemed. While Gato respected and honoured Aguille Delaz with all his being, he had to admit to himself that the auto-promotion to admiral had been somewhat of a show of hubris.  
  
Rosco was in her mid-fifties, tired-looking, and wiry. She seemed rather pleased to meet Gato though on the bridge of her Musai. Both she and her bridge crew were in civilian clothes, eschewing even the worn-out remnants of uniforms. Gato found the effect less unnerving than the sight of Cima's crew, even if it was a little surrealistic.  
  
He mentioned the surrealism to Rosco, though not that the effect was more calming. To his shock, she laughed a little.  
  
"Well, Cima's Cima and I'm me," she said, gesturing to her long felt skirt, peasant blouse and comfortable shoes. "After the war, I decided against uniforms for my crew. We can't replace them, and I didn't want to have my crew dressed in worn-out clothes. We keep them for certain occasions, but otherwise we found we look neater and feel better in civvies. Besides, I think she just likes knowing she's in command of a bunch of ruffians. I want to keep my crew as happy as possible--and that isn't a lot, I'm afraid."  
  
"Colonel Garahau said that I was to be given a Gelgoog, but she didn't say why."  
  
Rosco sighed. "We need those mobile suits for any number of reasons. We have to run patrols and scouting missions of course. They're also a source of revenue. There's plenty of people out there who like hiring a mobile suit and pilot for whatever evil reason. We aren't living on charity out here, Gato."  
  
He felt his stomach knot.  
  
"You're going to like the pilot I'm giving you as wingman though," she said. "I've been in the Jion forces for 30 years, and I've gotten pretty deft at matching people up that way. You'll meet her in the mobile suit deck. Her name's Isolda Raake."  
  
By now, Gato was starting to feel rather like a ping-pong ball. The good news? He was going to the Delaz fleet. The bad news? Oh, you have to work your way doing some unspecified horror. The good news? You get your own Gelgoog for it. The bad news?  
  
Well, the bad news wasn't going to be his wingman. Isolda Raake was a tall woman in brown corduroy pants and a black turtleneck. Her auburn hair was cut short and her green eyes reflected intelligence and sadness. She moved more athletically than he did, which made him somewhat embarrassed.  
  
"You must be Gato," she said, shaking his hand firmly. "Hope you don't mind working with somebody who hasn't earned her own combat nickname."  
  
"You were good enough to survive the war," Gato said to her. "That alone tells me all I need to know."  
  
"A lot of better pilots than me didn't make it," she told him sadly. "I just got lucky."  
  
Gato rather doubted that, but could tell that she had at least one "better pilot" specifically in mind.  
  
"Anyway, the suit you'll be using is here. Follow me."  
  
She shot a cable over to a Gelgoog in an anonymous grey colour scheme. The cockpit was already open, and they climbed inside. Gato took his place in the pilot's seat and adjusted it for his height.  
  
"We don't spare any expense on maintaining these things," Raake said to him as she inserted a disk of flight information. "We put in all the resources we can because these last suits are our livelihood."  
  
"No one has been very honest with me on what that livelihood is," Gato said. "I've already figured that it's illegal."  
  
Raake nodded sadly. "Yeah. We do other things for money, but we're pirates mostly. Those news broadcasts with traumatized survivors found drifting in lifeboats? It's not always us, but much of the time it is."  
  
"That's what I was afraid of", Gato said, his hand resting lightly on the right control stick. "Do I have a choice?"  
  
Isolda snorted. "We all have choices. You can refuse. If you do, chances are that Cima will space you, of course, but that's your choice to make."  
  
"Does this fleet ever come into port?"  
  
"Sometimes, but never until after a raid. There are lots of little islands run by crime lords out there. One of our ships specializes in running tons and tons of white powder between one of them and Side 6. Another doesn't really have a crew anymore because it's full of computer servers carrying everything from anti-Federation sites to the worst kiddie porn to the backup machines for JION.GOV. But our day to day living is provided by preying on luxury liners and freighters."  
  
"I'm supposed to be taken to the Delaz fleet," Gato said to her.  
  
"I've no doubt that you'll get there, especially if Cima's getting paid, which she will be since she doesn't ever work for free. But I can tell you the logic in her mercenary little head: 'I've got use of the Nightmare of Solomon. I'm going to make him make money for me.' That's how she thinks."  
  
"I take it you're as much a prisoner of undesirable choices as I am," Gato said. "You seem that sort of person."  
  
She nodded. "Like all of us after the war, I didn't have anyplace to go. I could have gone home I suppose, I'm from Hoeksche Waard and not Mahal, but a prison term is waiting for me there because of the awful things we did during the war. And yes, I participated in them too." Her voice filled with misery.  
  
"I don't see how you could have avoided it," Gato said. "You're a soldier, you followed your commander."  
  
"You're right, but that doesn't feel like an excuse," she said. "So now I'm stuck, until something changes the situation." She gazed blankly at the floor for a while. "Well. I think we should get suited up and take these things out for a drive."  
  
Gato hadn't been in a mobile suit since early in his relationship with Nina, when she managed to get him a clandestine ride in a captured Zaku. Now, despite the small voices of anger and disgust which he was ignoring, he felt his adrenaline start to rise even at the simple action of putting on a normal suit. Walking alongside Lt. Raake, both of them dressed as Jion pilots, brought back many memories both good and bad.  
  
As Gato climbed into the cockpit the ghosts of 0079 began resurfacing at a rate he hadn't expected. It had been a long time since he'd launched from a Musai; he'd spent the largest chunks of the war on Solomon and the Doroa. He looked up at the signal lights. No, he hadn't been on a ship this small since he was just out of the Academy, in a Zaku II that he'd thought was the pinnacle of engineering, and he'd been so proud to be in one.  
  
The light turned green and he hit the accelerator. His Gelgoog tore out of the ship, sending him back into the padding of his seat. For a second the interior of the ship flashed by, and then he was in space.  
  
"You're being quiet," Isolda's voice said inside of his helmet as her Gelgoog caught up to his.  
  
Gato realized he had the controls in a deathgrip. He gazed at the screens, rapt. The eternal night of space was around him. He hadn't been able to see the stars so clearly since one single Zaku ride a year ago. "I'm in space."  
  
"Yes. Been away from it a while?"  
  
"Since the war ended. The moon didn't give me opportunities to break loose." He considered mentioning the Zaku flight which Nina had devised for him, but decided against it. That had begun his affair with her, and besides that, the emotions it had evoked were not to be shared with a person he'd just met. "I'd almost forgotten how beautiful it is out here."  
  
"Well, you'll be seeing it aplenty when we're on patrol." She was silent for a moment. "Sorry. I've just gotten jaded."  
  
"I can understand." He scanned the horizon. "I see an asteroid belt over there. I'm rusty; I could use some hide-and-seek."  
  
"Well then, let's dance," Isolda told him, and hit her boosters, flying out in front.  
  
***  
  
On landing, a yeoman brought a message to Gato.  
  
"Ms Cima hopes you had a nice afternoon. She wants to meet you on the Lili Marlene for dinner."  
  
Isolda gave him a sympathetic look. Gato nodded.  
  
"Tell Colonel Garahau I'll be there."  
  
"Meet in the galley at 1730."  
  
"Have fun," Isolda told him softly, and squeezed his arm gently as she went to change from her suit.  
  
Things were quiet on the bridge of the Lili Marlene. The crew who had been working that watch looked as if they were getting ready to stand down for the next. Cima was reading from a comp-pad and ticking things off with a stylus.  
  
As Gato approached, Kosell looked at his watch, waited a moment, looked at his watch again and turned on the shipwide intercom. After a last glance at his watch he took the cord of a large brass bell and rang it.  
  
"Eight bells, gentlemen, hand in your reports and stand down," Cima ordered. "I hope you had an interesting day, Mr. Gato?"  
  
"Reporting as ordered, ma'am," Gato said to Cima.  
  
She nodded. "I thought we could have dinner, seeing as it's your first night on board and all. You're a valuable addition to the fleet." She got up and led him out through the main deck.  
  
Strange how praise from this woman struck like insults. Patience, he told himself. This woman had all the control over the situation and he'd have to at least be polite.  
  
"I am honoured, ma'am."  
  
She led him to an elevator he hadn't seen before and pressed the call button."Call me Ms. Cima. Everybody else does."  
  
"All right, as long as you recognize that I'm Commander Gato."  
  
She stepped into the elevator. "You academy types. So stuck on ceremony. Very well, I'll call you pigeon pie if that makes you happy."  
  
Gato hid his scowl behind her back.  
  
The galley was loud. Aside from the usual dining-room chatter, there were a few crewmembers in the corner with a guitar, squeezebox, and fiddle, playing up a storm. The din was increased by the sound of Cima's crew calling out greetings to her that she acknowledged with a tip of her fan.  
  
The only thing that could have made the atmosphere worse would have been smoking, but the "No Smoking" signs were still on the walls. Dipping was obviously all right though, Gato observed with a wrinkled nose as he saw at least one crewmember spit brown juice into a cup. Cima had her own table, but it was still in plain view and shouting distance of the rest of her troops. She took her seat and placed her napkin tidily in her lap. Gato did the same.  
  
One of the cooks emerged with a waiter's tray and set plates in front of them. Gato looked at the food. It was some kind of stew that didn't look bad, mashed potatoes, and a side of veggies.  
  
Cima poured herself a glass of water. "I pride myself on being able to take care of my crews. The food's not fancy, but it's nourishing and there's enough of it. It's a struggle keeping ourselves in food, water filters and spare parts, but we manage."  
  
"Yes. I've heard."  
  
"Well then, you won't mind being impressed into duty for a while. Our shopping list is getting long, and we'll have to go to the store soon." She picked up her cutlery. "Go ahead, enough waiting for me."  
  
Gato took an experimental forkful. "Not bad at all. Much better than some of the things I had to live on at war's end."  
  
"Then you can appreciate our difficulty. We have no government to support us anymore. We kill what we eat. This is where you come in. I'm sure a fine Zum City academy graduate like yourself has trouble accepting the idea of raiding for a living."  
  
Gato stared at her. "Of course."  
  
"Well, I'm open to any other business plans. No one has been able to give me one, though." She picked at her mashies, which had turned out to be a potato/turnip mix. "Don't worry, Commander, we'll get you to your friend Delaz. He hasn't invited us to join in his plans beyond taking you there, so we have to be compensated somehow. Do you think you'll be able to work with Raake?"  
  
"She seems to have the potential to be a good wingman."  
  
"She's another non-Mahalite. She's from some Dutch colony. She grew up rich but gave it all up to join the war effort. So heroic."  
  
Gato pretended not to notice the sarcasm in her voice. "What inspired you to join the military, then?"  
  
"I needed a job that wasn't construction. I don't need to pick out an outfit in the morning, and the job involved no heavy lifting. I could do without the amount of travel I've done, though."  
  
They both jumped slightly as the crew in the galley started banging on their drinking glasses with their cutlery. "I hope they're not demanding I kiss you," Cima said.  
  
Gato wasn't sure how to respond to that, not wanting to imply either that he was repelled by the idea of kissing her or that he wasn't. The reason for the commotion was revealed as one of her men hopped up onto his chair and announced, "Seeing as we've been gifted with a new member of the family, howsabout a round of applause for him!"  
  
The cutlery went down and they started clapping. Gato felt his face growing hot. The noise faded as the man on the chair started singing:  
  
Well the year was 0078  
  
(How I wish I was on Side 3 now)  
  
An invitation came from Zabi  
  
To a Mahalite vessel called Lili Marlene.  
  
God damn them all,  
  
I was told we'd win the war and then head home,  
  
We'd fire some guns, drink some beers,  
  
I've had no address for two long years,  
  
As one of Cima's privateers!  
  
Gato glanced over at Cima, who was laughing.  
  
The war knocked unemployment down  
  
(How I wish I were on Side 3 now)  
  
Signing us poor old roustabouts who  
  
Would make for them Ms Cima's crew.  
  
God damn them all,  
  
I was told we'd win the war and then head home  
  
We'd fire some guns, drink some beers,  
  
I've had no address for two long years,  
  
As one of Cima's privateers!  
  
Cima tossed her napkin aside and left her seat. One of her men linked his fingers together and she stepped onto them, letting him boost her onto the first long table.  
  
On New Year's Day we all set sail,  
  
(How I wish I were on Side 3 now)  
  
The Princess Ks all proud marines  
  
Far from their rivets and I-beams.  
  
Cima was obviously having a whale of a time, dancing now with another marine on the table. Gato leaned back in his seat. Well, if nothing else, it looked as if this gang of errant criminals knew how to have fun.  
  
We've done things to make you grow pale,  
  
(How I wish I were on Side 3 now)  
  
Our country just threw us away,  
  
But we'll find ourselves a home someday.  
  
God damn them all,  
  
I was told we'd win the war and then head home  
  
We'd fire some guns, drink some beers,  
  
I've had no address for two long years,  
  
As one of Cima's privateers!*  
  
Cima dipped down in a courtly bow and bounced off the table and back to her seat. A cook placed fruit cobbler in front of them.  
  
"Do you do this every night?" Gato asked.  
  
"Ah, Seamus and the band sometimes feel like providing dinner music." She gestured to his dessert. "Take that to go. We'll talk in my office."  
  
Cima's office was spacious, with two desks. The larger one was the one that was in use, the second probably being for a secretary Cima once had.  
  
Cima stopped to remove her cape and gloves. She rolled up her sleeves to her elbows and dropped into the desk chair. She indicated that Gato should take the other.  
  
"Cognac?" she asked after a moment.  
  
"Yes, please."  
  
She got up to fetch the decanter. Gato noticed the photograph on her desk. It was of Kishiria Zabi in evening clothes with a crown atop her red hair. She was standing beside Cima, who was dressed in a formal Earth Attack uniform.  
  
"Ah. I escorted her to a formal ball, once," Cima said. She placed a cut- glass tumbler in front of him.  
  
"I know that she was usually friends with her subordinates," Gato said.  
  
"Yes, like Aznable and Ridden. She liked having a female officer in her command, though. The fleet was set up in a completely ass-backward way, and Deitrov--Mr. Kosell--smelled a rat from the beginning. She was my commander, but my boss, Colonel Asakura, was under Giren." She shook her head. "Made no sense, and no good came of it." She sat down heavily in her chair and crossed her legs. "So what about you? I know you were Dozel's man once, and now you're headed out to work with the Ghost of Giren Zabi."  
  
Gato took a sip of the cognac, which was excellent. "I don't really think it matters anymore. They're all dead."  
  
"That they are. That they are." She sat quietly with her drink for a moment. "We were all glorious morons, weren't we? I suppose that's why it's so hard to give it up. Princes, princesses, noble causes...it's like we're addicted to a fairy tale."  
  
"Fairy tales don't end like this," Gato said.  
  
"They don't, because they aren't real," Cima agreed, undoing her collar and unzipping her shirt to the collarbone. "Real is exile on these eight hunks of metal, committing crimes and yet having people sing songs about it." She grinned at him. "I'm not shitting you. We were out on Lindsay's Quay not long ago, and someone actually had written a song about our exploits. We're criminals for god's sake!" She snorted. "Humans. I'll never understand them." She took a swallow from her glass and said, "So I'll keep this simple. I think you're a very attractive man and I'd like to sleep with you."  
  
Gato coughed on his mouthful of cognac. Cima was smiling at him, unaware that the lighting in the room was accentuating the fine lines around her mouth and eyes.  
  
"Um--I--that's a very generous offer--ah--Colonel, but I think I'm going to have to decline. I just got out of a bad relationship."  
  
She looked puzzled. "I never mentioned a relationship. I'm just looking for sex. There's not much else to do around this place."  
  
"I'm afraid you'll have to look for your entertainment elsewhere," Gato told her, putting his glass down and standing. "Thank you very much for your hospitality, but it's been a long day and I'm very tired."  
  
He left without another word, knowing he'd just brought the axe down upon his own neck. In fact, the first strike of it arrived just as he rounded the corner.  
  
Gato was suddenly yanked off his feet and his face slammed into the bulkhead. Before he could do anything but yell in pain, a gravelly voice told him, "You fucking better not have taken her up on her offer."  
  
Gato gasped, "If you mean the pass she made at me, no."  
  
The hands holding him backed him away from the bulkhead for a second, then slammed him into it again. "That better not be a backwards way of insulting her, either."  
  
"For the love of---!" Gato managed to turn his head enough to look up with one eye at Kosell. "She is NOT MY TYPE, all right? She's too wild for me. She'd break me in half. Take a pill, Mr. Kosell. She's all yours."  
  
Kosell let him go. Gato hadn't realized he'd been held off the floor until his feet touched the deck and gave out under him.  
  
"Well....all right then," said Kosell, and he disappeared in the direction of Cima's quarters.  
  
Gato's nose was still bleeding and he was still trying to stanch it with tissues as he walked down his hallway on the Vera Lynn. As luck would have it, Isolda Raake was walking down the same hall in her bathrobe with a towel over her arm as he did.  
  
"Gato!" she exclaimed. "You look like you ran into a wall. Or rather, the wall ran into you." She handed him her still-damp towel.  
  
"Mr. Kosell appears to be rather jealous," he said nasally into the terrycloth. The towel smelled nice, of shampoo and her clean hair.  
  
"Sorry. That was an inside joke of mine. 'Kosell' means 'wall' in Hebrew, I've heard. Come on, I've got some cold cans of soda in my cabin."  
  
Application of a can of generic cola stopped the nosebleed and helped minimize the swelling. Isolda stepped into the half-bath that was part of an officer's quarters to dress again, then sat down on the bed. Her cabin was tidy but lived-in, with a desk covered in mementos, a locker, and the bed made up neatly despite the shabbiness of the covers  
  
"A brief tutorial on Cima Fleet," she said. "Each ship does have its own rules, of course. Captain Rosco is an excellent commander. This ship runs like any other Jion vessel, only we don't have any higher authority than Cima and we don't wear our uniforms. Behave as the Jion officer and gentleman you are, and you'll do fine with Captain Rosco.  
  
"Now, as for dealing with the Lili, that's obviously somewhat different. Treat them as a pack of wolves. Cima is alpha bitch. Kosell is alpha dog. Like any alpha bitch, Cima sometimes starts sniffing around for new mates. I don't think she really wants to replace Kosell, simply because she trusts him. They were together at Iffish Island, you see. That bonded them for good, but I think she just isn't monogamous. She's had flings on the sly, but when Kosell smells competition, he attacks. And you, Lt. Commander, are most definitely competition."  
  
Gato started to grin, then winced. "Ow. Don't make me smile."  
  
"All right, I'll make you stop. Dead puppies. Think about dead puppies."  
  
"How about the idea of me as executive officer of this traveling circus? No thank you."  
  
"Well, maybe she just wanted your body. I'm just saying that you're the sort who would come across as a threat to Kosell. However, you reacted like a beta, not that you are, but it probably saved your life."  
  
Gato shook his head, then looked at the can in his hand. "May I drink this?"  
  
"You've bled on it. It's yours."  
  
"I just know that you must have a limited stock."  
  
"I'm sure we'll be restocking soon." Her playful expression faded to blankness. "Anyway, we should probably both turn in. We've got second watch tomorrow."  
  
"Then I will see you later, Lt. Raake. It's been nice meeting you."  
  
"Likewise," she said, smiling a little. "I'll see you tomorrow."  
  
The next two days were very routine. Gato and Raake flew patrols and did maintenance. On the third day, though, they and the other pilots were called to the briefing room by Captain Rosco. The mistress of the Vera greeted them from in front of a large viewscreen.  
  
"No patrol today, gentlemen and ladies. We've got a fat passenger ship coming up from Earth itself. It's payday." She turned on the screen. Gato felt his mouth go dry and looked over at Isolda, whose eyes were focused on her lap. After a moment, she turned her gaze to him.  
  
"You didn't think you were going to get off easy, did you?" she asked.  
  
"One can always hope," he murmured.  
  
"Give up that idea right now," she told him, and gestured for him to be quiet so they could be briefed.  
  
...To be continued.  
  
...For HDS. Come home soon. Come home safe.  
  
*Great apologies to the late Stan Rogers, whose "Barrett's Privateers" is a surefire way to get a barful of Canadians jigging. 


	2. Chapter 2

Gato squirmed in his flight suit and tried not to look at his wingman. He didn't want anyone to think that he was looking to Isolda Raake for reassurance.  
  
Captain Rosco was dressed not in her usual bohemian outfit but in Earth Attack khaki, complete with velvet cape and panels. Her assistant was dressed the same.  
  
"At ease." After they had sat down, she stood behind the podium.  
  
"We're approaching the path of a passenger liner registered out of Republic of Jion. The good ship River Nile is listed as carrying 1000 passengers, with ample supplies for two weeks. That's not a lot, obviously, but it should be enough to restock the Lili, the Vera and the Bettie for about a month. I'm sure you've all noticed that the water is starting to smell; hitting them up for water filters will be highest priority. Operational orders are as follows."  
  
She turned on the viewscreen behind her. A photograph of a passenger ship appeared.  
  
"While piracy has been a concern on the Federation's plate, they're still not at the point where they are hesitant to send out civilian vessels without escort. There'll be a sergeant at arms of course, and a small security force, but nothing we can't handle. Cima tells me that passenger liners are not going to become our new standard targets, because she doesn't want the Federation coming after us like the wrath of God. So this attack is going to be a one-time only thing.  
  
"The procedure will be similar to the other raids we've done. Gato, Raake, Friesen, Nava, you four will be part of the force that'll surround the ship itself. That should bring them to a standstill. Gato and Raake, your job, once the ship is stopped, will be to stand your Gelgoogs with weapons drawn on top of the ship, pointing said weapons into the bridge. Captain Doherty. Your Marines will follow for boarding. All crew and passengers will be taken to the ship's ballroom while we commandeer our supplies.  
  
"Now. I have been asked to remind you that we're to be on our absolute best behaviour. Not only are we to refrain from excessive force, but force of any sort if possible. That being said, the usual threat to any would-be heroes applies. However, for this job, we are not to touch the passengers' belongings, no matter how tempting. We take the supplies, any objects we need which belong to the cruise line itself. So Aunt Emma's pearls are forbidden, but the grandfather clock on the Grand Staircase is fair game if one of you weirdoes takes a liking to it and can figure out a way to get it back in here."  
  
There was some nervous laughter in the room. Gato just swallowed deeply.  
  
"There's the plan. Everyone suit up; we'll be in position to start this in," Rosco looked at her watch, "30 minutes. Synchronize watches; it is now 1102, mark. Good luck, ladies and gentlemen!"  
  
Gato and Raake went down to the mobile suit bay and suited up. As he fastened the seals of his helmet, Gato wished he had a moment to comment to Isolda how strange this felt. Putting on a normal suit and getting into a Gelgoog was like breathing. Piloting was life and he had no idea how he would endure if he, like Kelly, ever lost the ability to do it. What made the feeling strange was that knowing he was about to do it to commit a felony in deep space almost didn't bother him. The naturalness of being inside that Gelgoog outweighed that knowledge.  
  
He took a very short moment to wonder what that said about him as he floated into the bay itself, then dismissed the question until later. Isolda surprised him by slipping her arm around his waist and touching her helmet to his.  
  
"Just follow my lead and listen to my instructions. Everything's going to be all right."  
  
"I trust you," he told her. Isolda gave him a squeeze and let him go.  
  
The four mobile suits sailed quietly through space. As per Isolda's orders, Gato had his communications systems set to hear both his team and orders from the Lili Marlene. That was mostly quiet. After about an hour, Isolda said, "There it is. Okay, weapons out, let's show them we mean business." Her tone of voice changed as she spoke into the other channel. "Lt. Kosell! You want us to cripple the ship at all?"  
  
Kosell's voice responded, "Negative. Give them a few shot over the bow, but Ms Cima doesn't want it damaged."  
  
"Understood. All right then. Let's just fly straight at it, weapons out. Gato, like Captain Rosco said, we stand pointing the weapons right into the bridge. Friesen, you take starboard, Nava, you take port, fly flanking the ship until it comes to a complete stop."  
  
Gato could imagine the shock on the bridge of the River Nile as four mobile suits of an allegedly dead country came into view. The thought of their fear brought a smile to his face. The Republic of Jion was the Federation's bitch, and no friend of his.  
  
His Gelgoog's feet landed with a satisfying thump on the skin of the cruise ship and he engaged the magnets to keep it in place. He and Isolda brought up their suits' rifles and pointed them into the bridge as they had been told. He could see the crew running around inside and pointing at them in terror.  
  
Cima's voice broadcast itself into his helmet. "This is Captain Cima Garahau. You will shut down your engines and step away from the helm. We will board your vessel. Please order your crew to cooperate with all of our orders, deliver all goods we request, and no one gets hurt." The liner captain responded, "Captain Garahau, this is an unarmed civilian ship. On behalf of passengers and crew, I'm offering myself as a hostage."  
  
"That's very generous of you, but it's not what we want and need. My request stands. Please have your passengers gather their belongings and go to the ballroom. Have your security detachment meet us unarmed on the bridge."  
  
It took a few minutes to bring the ship to a halt, after which the boarding craft from the Lili,Vera, and Bettie took turns hooking up to the liner and unloading their crews of Marines.  
  
"Switch on the internal camera, channel 5," Raake ordered.  
  
Gato did so and found that he had a view on one of his screens of what was happening on the ship. "Gordy-cam," Isolda explained. "Lets us know if we have to open fire--"  
  
Gato cut her off. "Their clothes!"  
  
The ragged crew of the Lili and the civilian clothes of the Vera and Bettie were gone. Every man and woman boarding the ship was clad in clean, pressed Jion uniforms complete with velvet, leather, and gleaming helmets.  
  
"Oh yes," Isolda said. "Raids like this are why we all keep one uniform ready for action. We don't want to appear like ruffians. We're Jions, after all. Don't let that distract you, Anavel. Keep your eyes on that bridge."  
  
It seemed clear that this wasn't going to be an exciting assignment. On his other screens, Gato could see the passengers being herded down the corridors, dragging suitcases, carrying bags, and not putting up any resistance.  
  
About another half hour later, Cima herself made an appearance. Like the rest of her crew, she'd put aside her customized uniform and cloak for the khaki brown of Kishiria's forces. Gato could see why she'd chosen the custom-uniform option; the standard colour didn't suit her at all.  
  
He turned his attention to the "Gordy-cam". Two crewmen, accompanied by the heavily-armed Marines, were going down the halls, opening storage closets and dumping in the contents. Suddenly Isolda said, "Gordy? Do me a big favour and get me a blanket, would you?"  
  
Gordon's voice came back, "Isolda, honey, I'll get you two. Anything else?"  
  
"Toothpaste."  
  
"Teg's crew is doing the shopping promenade, but I'll set some aside when I meet up with him."  
  
Gato said to Isolda, "You've got him well trained."  
  
"We're old friends. I'll introduce him later. You want anything?"  
  
Stolen goods? Gato would do without. "I'm fine."  
  
"Okay, but when you run out of deodorant, don't ask to use mine."  
  
About an hour later, the camera view entered the kitchens. The staff was already in a terrified huddle against one wall as the raiding team entered, pushing large canvas laundry trolleys in front of them. They lined up the trolleys and the aforementioned "Teg" pointed to the refrigerators.  
  
"Okay, Gaylord McFaggot and the Fag-Fag Bunch, open 'em up!"  
  
One of the cooks ran forward to do just that. Gato couldn't see what was inside from his screen, but he could tell it must be something desirable judging by the speed at which the raiders pushed their trolleys in. Nothing happened for about five minutes, so Gato divided his attention in seconds-long increments between watching the bridge, and checking in on the ballroom and raiding crews.  
  
One of the kitchen staff asked, "Wh-what are we going to do for food?"  
  
"You got the emergency rations," Teg barked. "People don't need to eat this much crap when they're on vacation. Makes 'em fat! We're doing you a favour; you won't have to cook so much."  
  
Suddenly, one of the chef's assistants sprang out with a knife. He lurched forward with it high in the air, but caught himself on a countertop. Teg pulled out a sidearm and shot him in the head.  
  
He shook his head sadly. "Always gotta be one heroic asshole in the bunch. Anybody wanna join him?" On seeing the terrified faces and the closer huddle across from him, Teg said, "Thought not."  
  
Up in his mobile suit, Gato swallowed deeply, not that he could blame Teg for what he'd done. His estimation of the danger of this crew rose appreciably, though.  
  
The rest of the raid went off as planned. At the very end, Cima ordered, "Take the crew and passengers and load them onto the lifeboats."  
  
Kosell asked her, "Shall I set the charges, ma'am?"  
  
"No. Not this time. Not yet. Get a skeleton crew together from our own fleet. We're going to tow this thing a while."  
  
"Aye aye, ma'am," Kosell responded.  
  
What the hell? Gato thought to himself.  
  
Within another hour and a half, the River Nile had been emptied. Gato watched as Marines herded the bridge crew out at gunpoint. Finally, he, Isolda, and their companions were given the order to stand down. Some Marines he didn't know took the helm of the cruise ship and the other two suits were sent to make sure the lifeboats got started on their way towards the nearest populated area. Soon Gato and Isolda were parking and going in for debriefing on the Vera Lynn. After that, Isolda said she was going to the gym and Gato offered to join her.  
  
"I spend a lot of time here," she said as they walked into the circuit room. She looked very fetching in form-fitting workout tights and a tank top. Gato felt self-conscious in his baggy shorts and t-shirt. "It's about the most healthy addiction I could come up with for passing the endless hours on this tub."  
  
"Believe me, it's paid off," Gato assured her, watching her adjust the seat on the shoulder press.  
  
"That's what we keep telling her, but she just ignores us," said a familiar voice. Gato looked over his shoulder to find Teg, revealed now to be a bodybuilding type with the scales of justice incongruously tattooed on one arm, and Gordy standing there. Gato immediately tensed for a fight, but Isolda was smiling at them.  
  
"Hello, boys," she said, starting to press the weights. "Thanks for the blankets. They're the thermal ones that fit around you when you sleep. I'm going to be comfy tonight." She finished her set and looked up at Gato. "Want to work in, or should I do the next set?"  
  
Gato had rather enjoyed watching her, so he said. "You go on ahead." He looked at Teg and Gordy. "Has anyone explained why we're dragging that cruise ship along with us? Gordy, you seem to be in the loop, do you know?"  
  
He shook his head. "Even Kosell was surprised by that. You gotta realize, Cima's---" he glanced over his shoulder quickly, "a nut. Now that's kinda good; if she hadn't gone crazy we wouldn't be surviving the way we have. She might have given up and taken us all back to Side 3 where you know what would have happened." Gordy pantomimed putting a noose around his own head, tightening it, and stuck his tongue out. "All I know is this; from watching her work these past couple of years, what probably happened is she saw the ship and got a sudden brainstorm. She'll tell us why she took it in her own sweet time."  
  
The four of them worked out for a couple of hours, after which they all went their separate ways. As they came out into their own deck, Isolda said to Gato, "Come with me for a second. I got something for you."  
  
She opened the door to her cabin and Gato saw that the stolen blankets were already neatly folded at the foot of her bunk.  
  
"It's very tragic to me that a Jion officer has to be reduced to using stolen goods," he said.  
  
Isolda's head snapped around. "Are you judging me, Anavel Gato?"  
  
"I--"  
  
"Where else am I going to get supplies? I can't just hit a department store anymore; that's all gone for me. So what was I going to do? I'm COLD!"  
  
Gato sighed. "True. I apologize. What was it you wanted to show me?"  
  
"Never mind," Isolda snapped, and shut the door in his face.  
  
***  
  
"Ow."  
  
Gato applied a tiny bit of toilet paper to his face. He rinsed his razor again and brought it along his jawline.  
  
"Ow!" He grabbed another and blotted some more blood. He managed not to slice his right cheek, but the left was another story.  
  
"Ow! Dammit!" Gato yanked his hand towel off the wall and held it to his face. He felt his blood pressure go up. For the past three days, Isolda hadn't said a word to him. This had been facilitated by their being given two days off, two days which, for Gato, had been lonely and tedious. His irritation at that was compounded by the fact that he knew Isolda had every right to be furious at him. Now, he was going to have to face her showing the result of his refusal to take any stolen property.  
  
Not that it was possible to avoid it, in the long run. His toilet paper had been replenished when he needed it, and the fruit at dinner the night before had been fresh, not canned. He felt stupid, and Gato liked few things less than feeling stupid.  
  
Breakfast was a bagel that would have been stale by that evening and a cup of coffee that tasted as if they hadn't yet dipped into the supply from the cruise ship. That vessel was still tagging along silently behind the Cima fleet. He stopped to look at it through a porthole, shook his head, and proceeded down to the mobile suit hangar.  
  
Isolda was already suiting up. She glanced at him, then turned her back as she drew her normal suit on over the coverall beneath. Gato grunted. She'd have to talk to him eventually; it wasn't as if they could pilot together by telepathy.  
  
The officer of the watch came up to them with a clipboard. "Raake, Gato. Cima wants to see you in her office on the Lili. Just take your suits over. There's room for you to dock over there."  
  
They still didn't speak on the minutes-long trip into the flagship beyond the words necessary to dock. They landed and took the elevator up to the top deck. The last time Gato had been down this corridor, Kosell had been beating him up. He had a nervous feeling that something similar was in store.  
  
Cima was at her desk, with her gloves and cloak lying on top of the spare desk. She acknowledged their salute, and gestured for them to sit. Gato couldn't help but notice the delicate gold chain that adorned one of her wrists. It seemed very out of place on such a rugged woman, and he drew the immediate conclusion that it had been a gift. His mind immediately drifted to the almost bizarre idea that someone could actually love Cima Garahau enough to give her a present of jewelry.  
  
"I'm concerned about you two," she said to them. "I've heard the two of you had a disagreement and aren't speaking."  
  
"Who told you that?" Gato asked, wondering who was spying on them.  
  
Cima smiled, almost benevolently. "Gato my dear, this fleet is a very small community and we have way too much time on our hands. People gossip. The rumour I heard is that you two are having a lovers' quarrel, with variations saying that you're avoiding each other or that you had an out and out donnybrook in the gym. I know that one isn't true; a fight like that would definitely have gotten back to me, via Captain Rosco, who doesn't put up with that kind of nonsense, at all. So. What's really going on?"  
  
Isolda glanced at him before answering, "He said something that offended me and I haven't wanted to talk to him since."  
  
Cima leaned forward, propping her chin in her hands. "Ooh. The silent treatment. A perennial favourite for putting a friend who's offended you back in their place. What are you, twelve?" She turned her attention to Gato. "What did you say to her? Or did you just steal her lunch money and I'm going to have to spank you?"  
  
Gato swallowed. "I said something stupid and judgmental. Lt. Raake has every right to be angry with me."  
  
"Did you apologize?"  
  
"I tried to."  
  
"I didn't accept it at the time," Isolda said.  
  
"Do you now?"  
  
"If he means it," Isolda answered.  
  
"I am sorry for saying what I did," Gato told her. "I do mean that. I was wrong."  
  
"All right. Apology accepted."  
  
"Now isn't that better?" Cima asked. "You can kiss and make up now."  
  
"We...don't have that kind of friendship," Isolda said.  
  
"Oh well. Sucks to be you, then." Cima grinned nastily at Gato, who had the sudden urge to run off and bathe. "So, no harm, no foul. I've got a team-building exercise for you two." She reached into a file on her desk and slid a chart to both of them. It showed a large asteroid which was obviously fitted for human habitation. "Corona Island. It's an old laboratory base from the One Year War where the Feddies, bless their little hearts, were working on their own toxic gases. There was an awful accident in November of 0079 and all there were killed. It's been restricted ever since, as you can imagine, and no one is in a big hurry to visit it anyway. Except us and Big Snowman Dade's people."  
  
"Who's Big Snowman Dade?" Gato asked.  
  
"He's a major drug producer out of the wreckage of Side Four. He drops off at Corona and we intercept the goods and take them to Saba Island near Side One. That's where you come in. Dade's own security is pretty good, so he doesn't need us as escort, which is what you were probably expecting. His people work fast, darting in, making the drop, and getting out without being seen."  
  
"So his base must be nearby," Gato surmised.  
  
"Probably. I've never asked, although I'll find out one of these days. Not right now, though, I've got other things on my plate. Your job is to grab the merchandise and bring it here so we can make the delivery. Since Corona is off limits because it's dangerous and full of interesting information that shouldn't fall into the wrong hands, it gets patrolled once in a while, though not on any sort of schedule. You might be able to just go in, pick up the stuff, and come back without incident. On the other hand, you might run into the patrol and have to fight your way back. It's a crap shoot."  
  
"Why don't they just destroy the island?" Isolda asked.  
  
"They don't want what's on Corona to fall into the wrong hands. Their hands wouldn't be the wrong ones, I suppose." She pointed to the charts. "Here's what you need to know about getting to Corona."  
  
Afterwards, the two pilots were quiet in the elevator. Finally, Gato said, "I meant that apology. I was not a gentleman."  
  
Isolda didn't look at him, but she reached out and squeezed his gloved fingers. "It's all right. You're not used to this." She finally raised her green eyes to his face. "I've missed you."  
  
"I've missed you too. Teg and Gordy seem pleasant enough, but so far, you're the closest thing I have to a friend here."  
  
She squeezed his fingers again and they got off on the mobile suit deck.  
  
The flight to Corona was equally quiet. Gato put himself into the mode he always did before battle, playing classical music in his cockpit and conserving his energy. Not that there was any sure knowledge the enemy would engage them. From what Cima said, it seemed probable that this would be a milk run. Unless she had lied, but Gato reasoned that even if he and Isolda were disposable, the Gelgoogs were not.  
  
The space around them was messy, which was probably another reason Big Snowman Dade used it for his drug transfers. Instead of nice, open space through which the Federation could send even the smallest patrol vessel, the area was scattered liberally with ship and colony debris.  
  
A light started blinking on the screen in front of him as an alarm sounded. "I've got the signal from the package. It's on the other side of the asteroid."  
  
"Okay. Which of us should carry it and which of us should fly escort?"  
  
"Let's check out the size of this package first."  
  
"Okay."  
  
They flew over top of the asteroid. Gato watched it through his viewscreens, looking at the dark windows. He shuddered a bit, thinking of the deceased occupants within, dead on their own poisons. Ironic that they should be picking up a load of a different, equally illegal and poisonous substance from this place.  
  
"That's not too bad," Isolda said on seeing the parcel. It was about three meters long, wrapped in white plastic, with a small flashing beacon at one end, which was the source of the signal Gato was reading.  
  
"Okay. I think I should be the one to carry it," Gato told her. "I've got a better chance of defending myself one-handed."  
  
"You sure?"  
  
He smiled inside his helmet. "You said it yourself. I have a combat nickname, you don't, and I didn't become the Nightmare for nothing."  
  
"If I'm carrying it, you could defend me."  
  
Gato considered. "No, I'd really rather be the one-armed one. I wouldn't need that much defending."  
  
"Be my guest, then."  
  
Gato reached down and disabled the beacon. He freed the package from its restraints and let it float up to under his Gelgoog's arm. "I've got it. Let's go."  
  
The two Gelgoogs flew over top of the asteroid and headed towards the coordinates given them for the Bettie. They had only been in flight for ten or so minutes when Isolda exclaimed, "Look out! One o'clock, we've got company."  
  
Gato checked his radar and looked in that direction. "I can't see what they are yet, but we have to assume they're hostile."  
  
Isolda drew her beam rifle. "Roger that. Let's try to avoid."  
  
"This package is hurting my maneuverability," Gato said, producing his own rifle.  
  
"You sure you don't want me to be the mule?"  
  
"I told you, I'm sure."  
  
A moment later, Isolda said, "I've got a visual. Six standard GMs. We have to keep them away from the fleet. They're probably the patrol Cima warned us about, but they're heading right for it."  
  
"Six GMs against the Cima fleet? The Feddies'll be completely unprepared for that."  
  
"But if one escapes, we've given away too much information about ourselves," Isolda pointed out, vocalizing the thought that had crossed Gato's mind the moment after he'd spoken.  
  
"They'll have to be eradicated," Gato said to her flatly.  
  
"Do you think we can take them?"  
  
"Might be a little bit of a challenge," Gato said. "I've always thought I could still fight well with one hand tied behind my back."  
  
"You're such an asshole," Isolda told him, but it wasn't in a mean way.  
  
"Radio ahead to the fleet. We'll try to hit the Feddies from the side before they get there."  
  
Gato accelerated his Gelgoog, angling himself so that his weapon was forward and he was protecting the package behind the profile of his machine. He and Isolda didn't have signal flares, which was unfortunate. While on one hand it would take away the element of surprise, the sight of Jion attack flares would be enough to make at least a few of the Feddies soil themselves. Bad memories for some, and the prospect of being attacked by ghosts for the others. The thought of that made him chuckle.  
  
Isolda was right there by his flank. They closed on the GMs using debris for cover, darting between chunks of colony cylinder, each hop bringing them closer and closer. They paused inside the curve of one, where Gato reached out to touch the arm of Isolda's Gelgoog to insure they wouldn't be overheard.  
  
"When I say so, we come out of here firing, okay?"  
  
"Roger."  
  
Gato turned the head of his Gelgoog slowly until he could see space through a hole. There were the GMs, cruising along unsuspectingly. Probably feeling secure from anything but enraged drug dealers. Well, it was time to snap them out of their complacency.  
  
"Now."  
  
The first burst of fire from Isolda hit the cockpit of one directly and the resulting explosion flung its wingmen to either side. With a cry, Gato launched his Gelgoog forward, firing. They were in close range, where GMs performed best, and he wished he could use his sabres.  
  
The Feddie pilots removed their own advantage. Gato grinned as they did exactly what he wanted them to, retreating as fast as they could, widening the distance. He took off after them. Isolda was likewise in pursuit, trying to target another victim. Gato aimed again, gazing down at his target screen, maneuvering to get another one into the crosshairs.  
  
His target swerved to avoid some debris and went right where Gato needed him. His thumb depressed the trigger and a second GM exploded in front of him.  
  
The four GMs closed formation and turned. They were slowing down as well, likely trying to bring the Gelgoogs in close By now they were probably trying to call for help, though Minovsky interference might make that impossible. They'd have to assume that the Feddies were successful though, which meant Gato and Isolda would have to work fast.  
  
Isolda drew her sabres and went after the GM nearest her. Gato regretted not letting her carry the parcel; she was right, it would have been better for him to have both hands free. Perhaps she'd be perfectly capable of this kind of attack, but there was only way he'd find out now.  
  
A flash of light went past his port side and Gato realized he was facing forward, not flying on an angle the way he had started. One of the GMs was now targeting his cargo. He turned, narrowing his profile again, and dodged more fire, returning some of his own. He glanced over to see Isolda dueling, using her short-range weapons within the GM's comfort zone. The Feddie pilot wasn't bad, though, and was holding out against her.  
  
One of the Feddie pilots realized that this meant Isolda was distracted. Gato watched as the GM's rifle went up. Snarling, Gato aimed at that mobile suit. The GM fired, but Isolda dodged and it missed. The sabre wielded by the suit she'd been fighting scored a blow on her Gelgoog, though, leaving a black scar across the paint. Gato concentrated on his target, drew a bead, and fired. At the same time, Isolda threw her Gelgoog forward, slicing downward into her opponent's shoulder, cutting the GM diagonally through the torso. She turned and fled the resulting explosion.  
  
Something floated past Gato's main view. It was dust of some sort. With a gasp of horror and a wrench in his stomach, he realized the package he was carrying was leaking. He turned his side cameras to look at it and discovered a small tear in the plastic wrapping. While the wrapping was certainly tough enough to withstand any normal abuse, a space battle in a field of refuse was likely never in the manufacturer's intent.  
  
He'd have to get out and repair it, and that meant leaving Isolda on her own. He turned on his radio, hoping for the best.  
  
"Isolda!" Gato waited a second then called out again, "Isolda!"  
  
Her voice came back weakly, "Commander?'  
  
"The package is damaged."  
  
"Fix it! Don't think about me!"  
  
"Try to hide until I'm back there."  
  
"Roger."  
  
He couldn't afford another thought on how Isolda would handle this two-on- one battle. Gato opened his cockpit and floated around to the package. The tear was about a foot long, but the contents were packed tightly enough that they weren't pouring out like water. He grabbed the normal suit patching material from his belt and slapped it on over the cut. The package was still softer than he would have liked, but at least it was still there.  
  
A flash of fire went over his head and he looked over to see that Isolda was behind an asteroid, trading fire with her opponents like a gunfighter behind a wall. Gato jumped back into his cockpit and looked around. He saw the gutted inside of a ship nearby, reminding him of nothing so much as the cleaned body of a calamari. He was about to put the package inside when he realized that sharp edges might cause more damage to the wrapping. He really had no choice but to keep fighting the way he had been. Close range was out of the question for him, but for his wingman....  
  
Gato propped the package against a different piece of debris long enough to reload. He picked it up again and started firing on Isolda's opponents, drawing their attention. Isolda dove underneath the asteroid and came "up" from "beneath" the GMs She even surprised Gato, who had to yank his hand away from the trigger to keep from hitting her as she buried one of her sabers deeply into the torso of the GM nearest her.  
  
Gato hit the accelerator. "Give up all hope NOW!" he shouted to the last GM, which was fleeing for its life. Isolda was closer, but the GM was showing the pilot's frenzy of terror in its movements, his erratic path making it hard for her to target it. Gato sped on, gaining on her despite the obstacles in his path. He reached Isolda's side and they both aimed their weapons at the same time. The GM turned for a desperate last stand, but his nervous shooting could not even delay the inevitable. Gato and Isolda both fired, and were never sure which one of them hit first.  
  
***  
  
Gato slid the package into the hold of the Vera and joined Isolda. She was waiting for him in the mobile suit hangar, already drinking from a bulb of water. She handed another to him and said, "Good job, Commander."  
  
"I let the cargo get damaged."  
  
"I took a gash to my 'goog's torso. The Chief says he can fill it, but it's a sign of how close I came."  
  
Gato pulled off his helmet, and took a few deep swallows of water. "You're all right and the suit's still usable. That's all that matters."  
  
"I agree. I think the two of you did well. I'm glad to see my little exercise worked out."  
  
Cima was standing behind them, smiling.  
  
"Colonel Garahau. I apologize for not getting the package here intact," Gato told her.  
  
Cima shrugged. "It's not as if the load's a little light because you were snacking on it. This is just the cost of doing business. I wanted to congratulate the two of you. You did brilliantly against that Feddie patrol. Dade won't be able to use that asteroid as a drop point anymore, but the Feddies had obviously had suspicions about it for a long time. He's told me he's going to blow it up, and I told him great. Good riddance to it."  
  
"He'll have to find another island," Isolda said.  
  
"Space is large and demand for drugs is larger. He'll manage. Anyway, Gato, we'll make a felon of you yet. Oh wait. We already have!"  
  
Gato turned his back to her, leaning on the railing overlooking the hangar. "I did what I had to do to to survive."  
  
"And you did it wonderfully. Second servings on dinner for the both of you." Cima hopped off the railing and floated downward to the deck on another errand.  
  
Gato and Isolda got onto the elevator. "Don't let it get to you," Isolda told him. "For you, it'll end. In the meantime, we'll probably be pulling into port soon, and there'll be a little money in our pockets."  
  
They exited onto their corridor and paused at the doorway of Gato's cabin. "I don't know what to think about this," he said to Isolda.  
  
"About what?"  
  
"What we did was despicable. I know those drugs will end up in the streets of the Federation, but that's still something I wouldn't wish on them."  
  
"I can tell there's a 'but' coming," Isolda said.  
  
"But being back in battle again....I can't even begin to tell you how good that felt. My adrenaline is back. I feel alive, and I didn't even realize I felt dead." He looked at her. "You're a good pilot. You do deserve a combat nickname."  
  
She chuckled. "Well, I'll leave you to think about it. Oh. Before you shower, I have one thing for you. Come with me."  
  
Gato followed her into her cabin. She opened her desk and took out a box.  
  
"Electric razor," she told him. "I got the gel for it too. I figured, you thought you'd only be with us for a few weeks before we gave you to Delaz. You probably only brought disposable razors." She touched his scabbed cheek. "I can tell I was right. So I had the boys get one of these for you when they were on the shopping promenade of the cruise ship."  
  
Gato looked down at the box in his hands. "Thank you. That was incredibly thoughtful."  
  
"Someone had to look out for you." She patted his shoulder and went into her cabin. Gato returned to his own, thinking of nicknames. 


	3. privateer3

Saba Island was a colony roughly a third the length of one of the ones used in Side 3. It was built as a restocking station long before the One Year War but had seen little use since. There were scads of them left over from the war, most of which had fallen into disuse and were now uninhabitable. As a result, it had lost a connection to the Federation government, who no longer needed it, costing it both central authority and resources. In other words, it was now the perfect place for a pirate crew to dump some drugs and get some shore leave.  
  
The Lili Marlene and the Vera Lynn pulled into a lower level of the docks for obvious reasons. Gato, Teg, and Isolda played cards while waiting for any announcements about leaving the ship. Gordy was on duty over on the Lili.  
  
"Be nice to get off this boat for a while, get me a real bed," Teg said. "See if I can get any action."  
  
"Do yourself a favour and try to use a new and different pickup line," Isolda advised.  
  
"Yeah, for some reason I didn't get lucky with, 'Excuse me, miss, are you a filthy whore?'"  
  
"Can't imagine why," Gato said, taking a sip of coffee. "What kind of place is this? I really want to find myself a box of decent tea."  
  
"We've been to Saba twice," Teg said. "It's your typical small town that makes most of its living off other peoples' ill-gotten gains. The grocery stores are okay, the department stores are low-end. I'm not even sure if there's a Sears."  
  
"There's an S-Mart. It isn't too bad," Isolda said. "It's good for getting—"  
  
There were pipes over the loudspeaker. "Attention all hands. This is Colonel Garahau. I've just finished bringing in our transaction, so now it's time for you to be paid. Report to your paymaster for chits. I'm giving four days liberty call to all hands, so check for watch rotations. That is all."  
  
"Payday, boys," Isolda said, and they folded up their hands and headed out.  
  
"Four hundred Feddie credits," she sighed later at the plastic card in her hand. "Including the bonus for bringing in the goods."  
  
"I don't envy Cima the bookkeeping she has to do to keep this fleet running."  
  
"Well, it's something she does weekly with the other captains. Definitely Captain Rosco's least favourite task. Anyway, I'd better plan out what I want to get with this. I'd like a night in a hotel, so I could take a bath for a change."  
  
"There's a thought. I wouldn't mind giving my hair more than one lather- rinse-repeat."  
  
"You can afford one night in a hotel on what we got."  
  
Gato hesitated for a moment and said, "Actually, I've plenty of money."  
  
Isolda looked up at him. "How so?"  
  
"Remember, I was working for Anaheim before I came here. I emptied out my bank account before I left Von Braun."  
  
Isolda sighed. "We have watch tomorrow, but after that we could do it."  
  
"And our watch doesn't start until noon. We can stay up late tonight, come what may. Let's go shopping."  
  
The first stop was the town's single bookstore. The selection was another indicator of the kind of customers they received. The shelves, twelve feet high and accessible with a rolling ladder, were stuffed with dusty books in a hodgepodge of languages, many of which looked used. Still, Gato was pleased to come away with a few novels he'd missed having in his possession, along with some weeks-old Zum City newspapers.  
  
The department stores were indeed low end, but they had what they needed; new underwear, over the counter medicines, and their toiletries of choice. Afterwards they took a walk down Saba's pedestrian way.  
  
Small as it was, Gato had to admit that this was rather pleasant. It was no Zum City of course, but the streets were clean and lined with trees that seemed to be about fifteen years old. Vendors sold the usual bric-a-brac and snacks found in any town that attracted visitors who wouldn't be staying long and who had money to burn. Although the sky overhead was just more city, the whole cylinder was well-lit and the artificial breeze was pleasant. Cima Fleet crewmembers were eagerly hitting on the locals.  
  
"If I were a Saba Islander, I think I'd run screaming," Gato said, as he nibbled on some caramel corn he'd purchased.  
  
"A lot do, and not just because of Teg's rotten pickup lines," Isolda told him. "I talked to some younger women in a shop when I was here last. They told me that while the whole pirate thing is sexy, they know what the reality is, that none of these guys, even if they would take them with them, could give them any kind of life."  
  
"Anyone ever stay?"  
  
"Not here. Rarely, we come into port at Von Braun, and if anyone wants to desert, that's where they do it. But Saba? Might as well just stay with Cima; at least that way you know where your room and board are coming from."  
  
Gato paused to lean against a low wall. "Why do you stay with Cima?"  
  
Isolda sighed and looked away. "I've got my reasons."  
  
"I know that on Von Braun, they don't arrest Jions. You can trust me on that," he told her with a smile.  
  
She didn't return it. "Call me a modern day Flying Dutchman."  
  
"A what?  
  
"It's an American legend that fits me. The Flying Dutchman is a ship's captain from the 19th century, I think, who offends God so badly that he sails the oceans forever, never able to come into port. Never finding any rest, any peace. I don't deserve to settle down, Gato. Not that I ever could anyway. Things were never set up for me to do that." She looked him in the eye. "I don't think they have been for you, either."  
  
"The war started less than a year after I graduated from the Academy. I was transferred three times in 18 months, and then found myself homeless in Von Braun. After that, I tried to settle down. It didn't suit me." He munched on his caramel corn for a while. "I'm operating on the assumption that between the Delaz Fleet and Axis, we can bring down the Federation. After that, who knows?"  
  
Isolda sighed. "I try to keep it in the here and now. I'm a pirate. But at the moment, I'm a happy pirate. I have new underwear, the soap I like, and I'm going to drink at a bar tonight."  
  
"Where are we going?"  
  
"Same place the Cima Fleet always hangs out when we're in port here. Dick's. Horrible place; I never thought I'd see the day when I'd be in a dive like it."  
  
"Then why go?"  
  
"Because the Cima Fleet crowd loves it, and it's one of the few chances I have to watch my comrades feel like they're home."  
  
Gato considered. "How are the burgers?"  
  
"Made of turkey, but they're pretty good."  
  
"Let's go."  
  
Gato had only been in hangouts like this with Kelly, whose taste in watering holes had always run towards the "fightin' bar. The place was large, with long tables running the length of the building. Tough-looking servers were handing out plenty of attitude along with the food and drink. A stage at the end was set up for a band, though it didn't seem to have arrived yet. After some searching they located both Teg and Gordy, but quickly realized those two were in no mood for Gato's and Isolda's company, both having been successful in locating their hoped-for filthy whores.  
  
"You're right, these are good burgers," Gato told Isolda as he munched on his. The patty was as large as the bun, covered in real cheese, lettuce and tomato. "The beer leaves a lot to be desired, though."  
  
"Another place, Fishfoot's, brews its own. Shipments of beer to Saba don't happen a lot. This place waters down." She lifted her own small glass. "Hence, the gin. Besides, gin was invented in Holland. I have to acknowledge my own culture."  
  
"I'm just from Side 3," Gato said. "We've got a few vineyards, but we don't have a local poison per se."  
  
"Don't drink the wine here. Captain Rosco did that once. She vomited all night."  
  
Gato winced mid-chew. "Cima's right. This community is far too small for its own good."  
  
"Speaking of Ms Devil, look over there." Isolda gestured with a french fry to a table end near a corner. Cima was sitting with Kosell, their chairs pulled close together. In between bites of fish and chips, she was giggling and exchanging kisses with her executive officer.  
  
"That's something I could have lived and died very happily without seeing," Gato said, taking a large slug of beer as emphasis.  
  
"Hey, better she go rutting with Deitrov than keep chasing you."  
  
"True."  
  
"That big brick wall's getting lucky tonight. I'll bet—"  
  
"Isolda, stop!" Gato pleaded. "I'm trying to eat, here."  
  
Isolda did. Soon after this exchange, Seamus and his band took the stage with versions of "None More Scots", "Mary-Mac" and other songs that the crew of the Lili Marlene seemed to know by heart. The noise level rose along with the music, the air filled with tobacco and other smokes that made Gato dizzy, and the place filled with more locals as well as crewmembers who were now hungry and thirsty after a day and evening of shopping.  
  
As they remained, listening to music and people-watching, one odd thing began to happen. Various young people, men and women barely out of their teens, began straggling up to Cima. Cima and Kosell abruptly stopped their flirting and became all business, listening intently to each of the supplicants, then sending them away to confer between themselves.  
  
Eventually the choice was made. One boy stepped forward when Cima pointed, a boy with brown shaggy hair who was big-boned and looked tired.  
  
The music stopped. Various members of the crew came to stand behind Cima's chair. She leaned forward with her elbow on the table and her chin propped on her fist. The young man was obviously nervous; as Deitrov Kosell placed a shot glass of rum in front of him, the boy's hands were trembling.  
  
As Gato watched, Cima reached into her pocket and removed a coin, a Jion dollar stamped with the profile of Degin Zabi and no longer legal tender. She offered it to the boy, holding it lightly between two fingers. He swallowed deeply, then opened his left hand. Cima slowly lowered the coin to his palm. Gato observed the sweat on the youth's forehead and wondered what had brought him to making this awful decision. Gato was familiar enough by now with awful decisions to know there was always a story to be told.  
  
Cima and the boy sat there motionless for a moment, she holding the coin so that it barely touched his palm, he staring at it. Then, he closed his hand around the coin and took the rum in his other hand, knocking it back in one gulp. Around him, the Marines cheered loudly, one of them lifting one of his hands into the air in a gesture of triumph. The boy's grimace at the taste of the rum became a smile that was almost illuminating.  
  
"Let's give it up for the newest member of the Fleet!" Cima shouted, and they kept cheering and handing him drinks.  
  
"You fool, you fool," Isolda muttered from beside Gato, and swallowed her gin.  
  
"The future does look non-existent in this town," Gato said. "Perhaps we'd make the same choice."  
  
"Excitement, adventure, plunder," Isolda answered. "Ja, perhaps." She put down some money beside her empty glass. "I no longer wish to be here. Let's go back to the ship."  
  
They stopped for a bottle of wine and some glasses with which to settle in for the evening. The Lili Marlene, the Vera Lynn and the Blue Angel were docked, so returning to Isolda's cabin was easy. She turned on some music and stretched out on the bunk while he made himself comfortable on the chair.  
  
"This is a lot better," she said, not looking at him. "That bar was making me think about the past too much."  
  
"It reminded me of one of my old friends," Gato told her. "He's settled down in Von Braun now, married with his own business."  
  
"Lucky man." She rolled onto her side. "We picked you up in Von Braun. You had a job and a life there. Why didn't you stay?"  
  
"I was under the impression that I'd be back with the Delaz Fleet by now," he grumbled.  
  
"Oh, right."  
  
"Besides, if I had stayed, I'd have drifted back into a bad relationship. From what I've seen of myself in love, I don't let go easily."  
  
"Lovers can be addictive," Isolda said. She sat up, topped off her glass, and handed him a framed photo from the nightstand. Gato had of course seen it before, but never stopped to really look at it. It showed Isolda a few years before, standing with a young man against a forested background. From the lighting he could tell it had been taken on a colony. The young man was handsome and dark and from the way they were both smiling, they were obviously lost in the sheer joy of being with each other.  
  
"What's his name?"  
  
"Markus von Hardenberg."  
  
"'Hell-on-Wheels' Hardenberg?"  
  
"That's the one. I've known him since we were teenagers. We're practically from different worlds, but something, Fate maybe, keeps tossing us together and keeping us there."  
  
"My own lover, Nina, was like that. I understand."  
  
She didn't smile. "No, you really don't."  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"Have you ever met someone from New Koenigsberg?"  
  
"At the Academy. They were all brilliant and gifted, though—not very friendly."  
  
"They don't even think we're their equals. Markus believes in the rulers and the ruled, and people like you and me are the ruled. Why he deigns to associate with a "lowly' human like me has always been a mystery."  
  
"One which you've been willing to live with, I think," Gato said. "There must have been something about you he thought worthy of his attention."  
  
"I saved his life once, or so he said."  
  
"If his people are as arrogant as you say, that would do it."  
  
She put the picture down. "What attracted you to Nina?"  
  
"I can't tell you how we met; it was while I was doing some work for the Delaz Fleet. She offered me a home and stability, not to mention a warm bed with someone attractive in it." He pulled out his wallet and located the picture of Nina that he'd stuck behind a video rental card and for some reason never removed  
  
Isolda looked at it. "She's pretty. If we win, would you go back to her?"  
  
"Probably not. She's very neurotic. What about you and the very talented Lieutenant von Hardenberg?"  
  
"He's dead. I don't think he survived A Bao A Qu."  
  
"So you don't know if he's dead."  
  
"No, not for sure. I just never heard anything about him making it through. If he did, though, I'd be with him in a second. He just has that power over me---and I over him. That is one benefit to having a man like that around," she almost purred, "one definitely can get used to the power idea." She blinked as tears began to build in her eyes. "I sounded like Cima there. Sorry about that."  
  
Gato considered. "All in all, I'll take pretty and neurotic. I miss Nina, but at least I can be certain we're horribly wrong for each other and not have to worry about what sounds like a weird karmic bond."  
  
Isolda wiped her tears and smiled. "I think that's the only explanation. Oh, why can't things be simple? Why couldn't we have met nice normal Jion boys and girls back home?"  
  
"Well, we'd still be sitting in this cabin right now, drinking and reminiscing about them," Gato told her. "Who knows, it might even hurt worse if we didn't have all the drama behind us."  
  
"Yeah, just imagine if we had spouses, dogs, and kids instead of neurotic blondes and wannabe Nietzschean supermen?"  
  
Gato was quiet for a long moment. Then he ventured to say, "Still, there is something to be said for someone to hold you at night, even if they do drive you crazy come morning."  
  
"Yes. Indeed there is."  
  
Gato put down his glass and joined her on the bed. When she didn't protest, he put his arms around her waist. Isolda rested her head on his shoulder.  
  
"This could give us some drama," she observed.  
  
He rubbed his cheek against her short hair, inhaling its scent. "Then it'll all be very familiar territory."  
  
She laughed and raised her face to kiss him.  
  
"That was nice," Isolda told Gato as she snuggled against him.  
  
"Was it? I got the impression you were expecting something different. Something more, maybe."  
  
Isolda shrugged. "Markus and I used to break beds. That's not always a good thing. I like being able to walk in the morning." She ran her fingers through his hair. "This is nice. Cozy and relaxing."  
  
Gato looked down at her. "So's a cup of tea."  
  
She propped herself up on one elbow. "Oh, drop it, Anavel. You don't have to compete with Markus. I admit I'm used to having more fireworks in bed, but that's not what's important to me." She clung to him aggressively. "I've been lonely for somebody like you. Not everybody in this fleet is a ruffian, but most are from Mahal and I've never really fit in with them. I've missed being with people I could talk to. God, as a teen I spent holidays with New Koenigsberg nobility; I've been going insane dealing with these construction-worker types!"  
  
He signed. "I'm sorry. You're right. If I feel alienated after a few weeks with the fleet, poor you!"  
  
"I don't need pity. Only company."  
  
Gato rolled onto his side and cupped Isolda's cheek in his hand. "I don't know how long I'll be here. For as long as I am, though, I'll be that company." He slipped his arms around her. "If nothing else, it'll keep you warm at night so you won't have to steal any more blankets."  
  
"I figured it would come down to you controlling me, you Zum City elitist," she snarked, and returned his embrace. After a moment she raised her head to look at the clock. "0200, and we have watch tomorrow. We'd better get some sleep."  
  
"So, you do want me to stay?  
  
"I thought that was the plan."  
  
It took a few minutes for them to get comfortable in the narrow bunk. Eventually, they worked out that Gato could rest in the angle between the bunk and the wall with Isolda spooned against him.  
  
"Corona Razor," Gato said softly after Isolda had turned off the light.  
  
"Hm?" she sighed, indicating that she'd already been half asleep.  
  
"Your combat nickname. Do you like it?"  
  
"I like it," she said. "Good night, Nightmare of Solomon.  
  
"Good night, Corona Razor."  
  
Gato awakened with fears that becoming lovers would change the way he and Isolda worked together, but soon found out that their professionalism and pride in their work outweighed their newfound intimacy. Their patrol was uneventful, but it passed no differently from other uneventful patrols. They did their shift and returned to Saba, to the hotel they'd been talking about.  
  
By the next morning, Gato no longer felt that Isolda expected more. She seemed quite happy with his performance, and even commented as such as she washed his hair in the shower.  
  
Too soon, it was time to return to space. Three days out, Gato and Isolda walked to breakfast and as always, saw the River Nile cruising along beside them.  
  
"Wait a second." Isolda walked forward and peered through the window, frowning. "They've been working on it. It's not the River Nile anymore."  
  
Gato went to stand beside her. "You're right." The upper decks were being refitted to make it look as if they were of a different structure, still that of a cruise ship, altogether. The paint was being touched up, but on the prow of the ship was now the name Antigua Empress.  
  
"We starting a cruise line?" Isolda asked.  
  
"I'm afraid to think of what Cima's idea of on-board entertainment would be," Gato said. "Well, we know one thing about it—it's going to be used to steal something."  
  
"Something big, I would think," said Isolda.  
  
"In that case, we need a good breakfast in our stomachs," Gato said, and headed off to the galley. 


	4. privateer4

[Author's Note: I've gotten a lot of mail asking what His Divine Shadow thinks of Gato poaching Isolda from "In Course Reciprocal". I'd like to assure the readership that it was HDS's idea. I was originally going to just have them strongly attracted to each other, but said that obviously nothing was going to happen between them. His response was along the lines of, "Oh, why not?" He felt it would explain some things left unanswered in "In Course Reciprocal" and he gave his imprimatur. Gato and Isolda seem to have taken to the idea like ducks to water, and I'm happy for them. Still, as a fanfiction writer we know it's my job to take happy characters and ruin their lives, so....Onward!]

Despite the work being done on the _River Nile_, it was a week before they heard anything about the plan for it. Unlike other briefings, Gato and Isolda were specifically ordered to attend on the _Lili Marlene_. Once there, they found themselves in an auditorium full of many Cima Fleet members who were from other ships and who consequently they didn't know.

Kosell entered and ordered them to attention. Cima Garahau came up to the podium in her usual uniform and cape, swinging her war fan at her side.

"Good morning!" she chirped. "As I'm sure you all have noticed by now, we are towing a cruise ship behind us. The cruise ship formerly known as _River Nile_ has now been renamed _Antigua Empress_, and hopefully the Cunard Line won't notice too soon after we add it to their registry."

She nodded towards the back of the room. The lights went out and a blueprint of the ship came up on the screen behind her. "This is the interior of the cruise ship now. The nice thing about luxury liners is that they have a lot of large, empty spaces for ballrooms and theatres and swimming pools that are just perfect for turning into things like, oh, let's say mobile suit hangars. And since passengers don't want to enter and exit the ship through one chute like a bunch of cattle, they have numerous hatches which make for easy and rapid exits, the sort that, perhaps, a bunch of heavily-armed Marines might use.

"I've assembled you as the most reliable boarding parties, the cleverest hackers, the best pilots, and so on. For this plan, I could only use this one ship at first. We're going to Trojan Horse the Federation supply base Port Good Hope."

There was a stir in the room. "That's one faraway base," Gato whispered to Isolda.

"Quiet!" ordered Kosell.

"I know, I know. It's a long way away, but it'll be worth it. The crew of the _Blue Angel _has been studying the patterns of ships coming and going for some time now. What they've discovered is that ships arrive as a fleet, drop off supplies, and leave until the next outgoing fleet comes in to restock before going to another location. What we are going to do is hit them after the delivery fleet goes out and before the next one comes in, intending to restock and refuel before going to points elsewhere. This is going to be a delicate mission, and very detail-oriented, the kind our late titular commander would have loved. We have to take this base, secure the population, and make it look as if nothing is wrong for as long as it takes to raid it. Operational orders are as follows, and I'm open to ideas to make this mission work. Anyone who has suggestions, please report to your immediate superior. Now, this is Port Good Hope as it appears now."

As Cima dove into her briefing without further ado, Gato mused over the concept even as it was outlined before him. It was an ambitious plan, but if it were successful, the fleet would be cushioned against hardship for several months. Another thought crossed Gato's mind briefly as he listened to Cima talk: the woman might be a bitch and a war criminal, but that led to her having one hell of a slick felon mind.

It was two weeks to the target. Gordy would be piloting the _Empress_, Gato and Isolda soon found out, but Teg was not included in one of the boarding parties. He shrugged it off.

"They'll need me sooner or later," he commented. "You're gonna need a lot of hands to move all that shit."

Gato's and Isolda's role remained the same; flying patrols and fencing each other. Practice was all well and good, Gato thought, but how would they now perform in battle if the battle were real? He thought about asking Isolda what she thought, but something made him hesitant to do so.

In the days before reaching Good Hope, the parties involved in the raid moved onto the _Empress_. Three mobile suits were hangared on board, including, to Gato's nervousness, Cima's own Gelgoog.

"We have to fly with her?" Gato whispered to Isolda.

"Don't worry, it's a good thing. The only thing bad about it is she really makes you perform harder than you thought you could. I don't like our fearless leader either, but she really is fearless, and she's a damn good pilot."

This surprise was at least a logical one. The one that had met them both on boarding the _Empress_ had been their living quarter assignment. They looked at the cabin keys to see if they had been billeted near to each other and discovered they had been.

"We're in the same cabin," Isolda said with puzzlement in her voice.

"I'm sure it's not a mistake," Gato said. "There aren't any secrets in this fleet, everybody knows we're...um...."

"Banging each other?"

"Isolda! You make it sound so ugly."

"At least I can bring myself to say it, you big prude. A deck, number 312....here it is."

They opened the door.

"Holy shit," Gato said on looking inside. "Is this a joke?"

"If it is, I like the punchline," Isolda said, striding inside with her bag over her shoulder. She tossed it onto a nearby fainting couch and executed a swan-dive onto the rose-coloured satin cover on the king-sized bed. "This is great!"

Gato looked around himself in shock. The walls were mirrored. The carpet underfoot was red. A brief inspection revealed a heart-shaped bathtub.

"Well, Kelly, you got your wish," he said to himself. "I'm finally in that brothel you wanted to take me to."

Isolda appeared behind him, ducking under his arm into the bathroom. "That's so cute!"

"You don't detect Cima's influence in giving us a honeymoon suite?"

"Who cares? Ooh, scented massage oils." Isolda took another moment to sit in the tub to find out how roomy it was, then looked up at him. "For heaven's sake, Gato, lighten up for once in your life. I'm sure a camp bed and pre-packaged rations can be requisitioned for you if you want them that badly, but," she climbed out of the tub and took his hand, "isn't this a lot better? That mattress is nice and firm. If anything you can rationalize that you'll sleep extra well. Just what a mobile suit pilot needs, right?

"We may not have time to sleep, much less use that bed for anything else."

"And maybe we will. Stop being such a pessimist and tell me if there's a Coke in that mini-fridge."

There was another surprise in store. All but the Marines who would be doing the actual boarding were called to another meeting.

"I almost forgot to tell you," Cima giggled, "but this is going to be a costume party. It took a while to work out what roles we would all play, but it's done now." She held up a clipboard. "Since we're pretending to be a cruise ship in distress, it's inevitable that the tower at Port Good Hope is going to want to make contact with us and talk at some length. So, we're going to have to make everything look as normal as possible. So here are the roles you're going to play. If you're a passenger, your costume is easy; just wear something you would on vacation. However, there are some crew roles, and they'll be in crew uniforms. I'm one of them. Commander Gato, you're going to be playing the captain."

Gato jumped a little in his seat.

"You're a logical choice. You've got a high-class accent and a..." she fished for words, before continuing, "patrician bearing." She looked down at her clipboard. "Sgt. Voider, you'll be playing the executive officer. Gordy, obviously you're the helmsman...."

################################################################

"Good grief."

Gato looked at himself in the mirrored wall. The white captain's uniform had been tailored to fit him, but he hadn't felt so wrong since he'd been in a business suit at Anaheim Electronics.

Isolda hugged him from behind. "I think you look adorable."

"Isolda, I've got to wear white shoes with this. The 'Nightmare of Solomon' does NOT wear white shoes." He pointed to his reflection. "_That_ is not someone who battles the enemy. That is someone who sells creamsicles out of a truck."

"I like creamsicles. Give me one, Mr. Ice Cream man?"

Gato's resolution to be mortally offended broke. The past two nights had been more pleasurable than he'd intended, thanks to Isolda's staunch refusal to let him indulge the more ascetic (she would say "killjoy") part of his nature. "If you're very good, maybe later."

"Oh good," she sighed as he turned to kiss her. Isolda's role was "the tennis instructor", so she was dressed fetchingly in a short white skirt and white polo shirt with the cruise line logo on it.

"All hands report to stations," a voice came over the loudspeaker.

"Showtime," Gato said, pulling away from her. Isolda straightened his jacket and he pulled on his cap. She grabbed her assigned tennis racket and they headed their separate ways. Isolda took up her post in the mobile suit deck. He reached the bridge by a refreshingly functioning elevator. Once there, Gato hesitated before taking his place in the captain's chair. The rest of the bridge crew positioned themselves at their stations, all dressed in the appropriate uniforms.

"Coffee? Tea? Firearms?" asked a familiar voice. Gato turned to see Cima standing beside him, pushing a Housekeeping Services cart and wearing a black and white maid's uniform. Her hair was tied primly into a bun and she was smirking.

"You look entirely too pleased with yourself, ma'am," Gato said to her.

"You should look more pleased. I gave you the captain's chair."

"I never took theatre in the Academy. I hope I can play the role."

She patted him on the shoulder. "Oh, you can. You'll see. Wait, just a second." She stepped over to him, lifted his cap, and tucked his ponytail under it. "Long hair's a Jion officer's prerogative. A liner captain wouldn't have it. There."

Gato nodded, seeing this as just another detail to perfect. He turned his attention back to the forward viewscreen.

The liner approached the hulk of Port Good Hope. It was another base built into a roughly cylindrical asteroid. Teg was of the opinion that it "looked like a giant turd". Gato thought that assessment was childish, but accurate.

"Downloading the registry information for the _Antigua Empress_ into the Cunard databases, Captain," one of the hackers said from his laptop. He watched the coloured bar slide to the right for a few seconds. "Done."

"Here we go," said Cima. She was moving around in place, and Gato looked over at her, thinking she must be wearing uncomfortable high heels. He was mistaken; despite the form-fitting maid's outfit, her shoes were flats. She was just nervous, or excited.

"They're hailing us," Gordy announced.

"Answer it," Cima ordered.

The control tower on Good Hope appeared on their viewscreen. It was a fairly large room full of consoles and the first Federation grey uniforms Gato had seen since the war ended. He felt the old fury and animosity fill his soul. It was hard not to grin and welcome it home, but he had a role to play.

"I'm Captain Zires of the Antigua Empress. We're off course and in distress. Can you help us out, Good Hope?"

A Federation officer came to the front. "I'm Commander Reynolds. What happened to you, Captain Zires?"

Gato laced his fingers around his knee. He was nervous, but he reasoned it fit in with his role as a cruise ship captain who'd taken a bad fright. "We were raided by pirates who took our supplies and made us re-route to out here."

"How are your crew and passengers?"

"We had one would-be hero," Gato said, drawing on his memories of the raid that had given them this ship. "A couple of passengers and crew were beaten up when they wouldn't yield up valuables. Otherwise we're remarkably unscathed."

"Well that's good to hear, although I'm sorry about your hero." Reynolds paused as a junior soldier came up to him with a printout. He stopped to read it before saying, "All right, Captain. You come aboard first and we'll discuss what we can do for you."

"Thank you. I'll meet you in the tower after we dock." Gato motioned for the communication to be closed.

As soon as the screen returned to being a view of Good Hope, Cima asked, "How long till you can put the base to sleep?"

"The moment you give the word, ma'am," the hacker said. "They won't be able to send or receive communications at all."

"Excellent. The word will come from Commander Gato."

Gato nodded. He'd memorized every step he was to take on arriving in the tower, and had every confidence in the timing of the attack going to plan. That was something in which he did have faith in Cima.

The _Empress_ slipped gently into the dock of Good Hope along its signal. When the port closed behind it and they were given the signal that atmosphere was restored, Gato rose from his seat to begin his part. Cima laid a hand on his arm.

"Good luck, Commander. We'll be awaiting word from you."

"You'll have it."

Gato left through one of the hatches in the side of the ship and launched himself from the deck. He floated up to the catwalk around the dock and made his way to the tower.

There would be questions. A lot of questions. He and Cima had worked out how he would handle this interview. He shook hands with Reynolds, who sent for coffee. Reynolds wanted to talk in his office, but Gato asked to talk in the tower, where he could see that his passengers and crew were getting off the ship safely, to be taken to the sickbay and galley. Telling him how they were raided was easy; he simply gave a detailed account of the raid in which they'd seized the liner.

Below, he could see the crew and "passengers" exiting the liner. None of them was Isolda; she was staying close to the mobile suits, in costume in case she had to leave the ship for any reason. Gato continued to answer questions and sip indifferently at the rather bad coffee he'd been given.

"I need to call my executive officer and get an update," Gato said, opening a cell phone. He entered the number and waited for Cima to answer.

"Are all hands aboard?" he asked.

"Yes, Captain," she said, with just a bare hint of giggle in her voice.

"Then let's put this thing to sleep."

"You'll have it. We're right outside the door."

"Yes, of course." Ignoring Reynolds' confused look, Gato went to the door and opened it, closing the phone and putting it into his pocket as he did so. A smiling Cima stood there, Housekeeping cart in front of her, holding a cell phone to her ear.

"Put this baby to bed," she said into it, and all the screens in the tower turned to static.

"Commander?" a communications officer asked, half wanting orders, half wanting reassurance. Reynolds wanted some of that himself. Cima was now pointing a gun at his face. Tall as she was, her aim was very direct and her hand steady, despite the fact that the room had started to shake every few seconds.

"Don't move."

"You may have a gun pointed in my face, but it's only one. You can kill me. My men can function if I'm dead."

"Perhaps, but not if they're dead too." Since both Cima's hands were occupied, Gato pointed to the window overlooking the hangar as the mono-eye of a Gelgoog appeared outside, looking in. Cima touched a button on her cell phone and got a view of Isolda Raake, sitting in the pilot's seat, waving, with the tennis racket by her side.

"Madame Captain, the base is yours," Raake told her.

"Thank you, Lieutenant," Cima responded as six Marines appeared behind her. As with the _River Nile_ expedition, they were all dressed in khaki uniforms, with polished boots and gleaming helmets.

"You're—you're Jions!" Reynolds exclaimed as the Marines moved into the room, weapons pointed at the soldiers inside.

"You'll find that your communications system is completely down," Cima told him. "My crew is currently free on this base. Just give up the supplies you had delivered recently and we'll be out of your hair." She looked down at the screen on her phone, which, Gato knew, would be transferring images of both Marines and civilian-clad members of the crew fighting to subdue the base and get to the storage areas. In the meantime, the _Vera Lynn_ would be moving in to take on the goods.

"Commander Gato, why don't you join Isolda at her station?" Cima asked.

"Yes ma'am." Gato lifted the cap from his head and let his hair free before moving past the Marine guards and heading back down to the liner.

As his feet touched the deck below, he reached into his pocket. The night before, Isolda had given him something to cheer him up when he'd been brooding at the sight of the white captain's uniform. It had worked, he'd been cheered considerably, and now he'd be able to share that with others.

"Need a lift?" Isolda asked over her P.A.

"That'd be helpful," he shouted up to her. The Gelgoog lowered a hand and Gato sat down in it. The hand raised him to the level of the "Welcome to Port Good Hope" sign that was over the airlock leading into the base. He unfolded the little burgundy, black, and white Jion war flag that Isolda had given him. He tacked it with four magnets over the sign and saluted it.

Isolda then brought him into her cockpit where she watching the proceedings on one of the viewscreens. Gato settled in beside her seat, undoing his white jacket.

"Feel better?" Isolda asked, smiling.

"Outstanding. How's the raid going?"

"So far so good."

"How much are they resisting?"

"Not nearly as much as we were expecting. The guards had their weapons ready, since they were on duty, but the rest were practically unarmed."

"Hm. If the Feddies have gotten this lackadaisical about protecting themselves, we have a good chance of striking back at them."

"I thought that's what we were doing."

"I meant in terms of getting our country back."

"That's hardly in the here and now. In the here and now..." Isolda's face contorted into a grin and she punched the air with one fist. "Yes! Tampons!"

Gato gave thanks mentally for the fact that he'd lived for a year with a woman before this. "How long is this going to take?"

"We projected eight hours but they've scrapped that estimate. There's a lot of stuff here. They must have been expecting a convoy to Jupiter or something."

"From what I heard, that isn't what they were expecting in next. We had to find that out so we knew what might be coming in as we're escaping."

Isolda considered, then turned on the radio in her Gelgoog. "I.T., this is Raake. What were we expecting as far as ships coming in to restock went?"

The hacker's voice answered, "What's down on the schedule is a few convoy ships for the Jupiter fleet. Why?"

"Gato just pointed out that it seems like an awful lot of stuff they're holding for 'just a few convoy ships'."

The voice at the other end paused. "I'll point that out to Cima."

They didn't hear back at first. After an hour or so there was an announcement that the raid was going to take longer than previously expected due to the unexpected volume of goods on the base. Feeling uneasy, Gato excused himself to Isolda and went to sit in his own mobile suit.

The raid was going well. From where he was sitting, Gato could see the raiding party moving goods out swiftly. Isolda was right, though, it was an unusual amount of stuff. He wondered for a moment if they really needed to take everything, then reflected on how dependent the Cima fleet was on fortune.

Still, there was a bad feeling in his gut, and as a pilot, he'd learned to trust those. Well, he'd done all he could in case of emergency. He had taken off the uniform parts that made him physically uncomfortable. Seeing that little Jion flag over the "Port Good Hope" sign made him smile. Nothing else to do for now.

He had actually dozed off in his cockpit when the alarm went off. Cima herself was leaping from the tower, holding down the short black skirt of her maid's uniform.

"Gato! Raake! Cover me!"

"Ma'am?" Gato heard Isolda ask.

Gato could see Cima jumping into the cockpit of the third Gelgoog. "It wasn't on the schedule. We checked five minutes before we docked here. There's a Federation fleet coming in, we don't know where they're going---but it looks like they've got mobile suits!"


	5. Chapter 5

The three Gelgoogs turned to face the hangar doors. "On your signal, ma'am," Isolda said.

"Stand fast. They don't know we're here yet. Vic's been pretending to be the Good Hope tower and so far, seems like they're fooled. The _Lili_ and the _Vera_ are full speed towards us; Kosell says they'll be here in an hour or so."

"How are we doing on the raid?" Isolda asked.

Cima sighed. "We're not going to get all of it. Don't get me wrong; we're still sitting much prettier than we were. At least we still have the food from the _River Nile_." She paused for a moment before saying, "The three of us will launch first and engage the Feddies. There's three ships; looks like and one of them can carry GMs We can take those. Not like they have Gundams. We can be grateful for that much; that the Feddies don't have any more of those nightmare suits."

Gato bit his lip. Cima didn't need to know that she was wrong. "What are we facing out there, ma'am?"

Cima was silent for a moment, but Gato could overhear a voice on her raido. When it stopped she said, "About ten Columbus class supply ships, escorted by two Salamis and and one Magellan."

Gato frowned. "None of those can carry mobile suits, unless they're in the supply ships, which isn't a given."

"You haven't been keeping up on your Feddie ships. Magellans can carry up to six mobile suits now. Gotta be ready for them."

"Oh great," Gato said. "Well, six isn't too bad, but what are you ladies going to do?"

"Shut up!" Isolda exclaimed, not unkindly.

"I agree with Raake," Cima said. "Okay, forget the supply ships. If we can raid them later, fine, but the priority is taking out those three battleships. So here's what we're going to do. We're going to have to get behind them, and you'll cover me while I go after the mobile suit hangar doors. After that, we're fast and in three ship-killers."

"We can use the Columbus-class ships as cover," Raake observed.

"Absolutely," Cima said. "Let's go."

As soon as the Federation supply fleet was visible on their viewscreens, the three Gelgoogs "dove". They had to go far enough away that the ships wouldn't notice the dead area the Minovsky cloud they was generating.

"We'll come up behind them fast," Cima told them. "I don't want them to know we're here until we're breathing fire down their backs."

"Remember how Char Aznable took out his second ship at the battle of Ruum?" Gato asked.

"I do!" Isolda answered. "I was assigned to _Queen Mabh_ when we heard. It was required study for the suit pilots."

"I've heard about it, but I was busy," Cima said. Gato cringed slightly as he thought of what she'd been busy with.

"He came bouncing along the underside of a lot of other Federation ships in order to reach his target," Isolda said. "Let's hear it for there being no up and down in vacuum."

"We'll do it."

The first inkling the Federation fleet had that they were under attack was the impact of Gelgoog feet on the bottom side of three Columbus. The impact then transferred down the lines until a single Gelgoog Marine Commander rose up between the trailing Columbus and delivered a blast from its beam rifle on the rear of the Magellan as two other Gelgoogs opened fire from their arm-mounted machine guns on each Salamis.

Gato knew that his advantage was his suit's agility. He'd dodged particle cannons before, so that held only a reasonable amount of dread for him. His goal was the bridge, to leave the Salamis headless before concentrating on its destruction.

Suddenly, though, he realized Isolda didn't have his level of experience. For just a moment, he wondered if she'd be alive to cuddle in his arms that night. He wasn't in a position where he could easily go to her rescue...

_Stop that, man!_ he snapped at himself. He drew one beam sabre and hurled himself at the gun nearest him. He brought the sabre right, left, and right again on the barrels, then sank it into the turret in a double-handed thrust before leaping again off the deck. He caught a glimpse of Cima blasting at the hatch of the Magellan with her beam cannon and of an explosion too far to his left to have been Isolda's suit. She must have hit a turret herself.

The Salamis below Gato started moving away from the fleet, obviously trying to isolate itself with just this one enemy. Another turret fired; he dodged it and hurled his Gelgoog in reverse back over the ship and the turret he'd destroyed, going into a Null-G somersault landing on the nearest Columbus.

Gato leapt forward again, sabre again in hand, bouncing off the Columbus for leverage. He aimed his machine guns at the next cannon on the aft port side of the Salamis. When the resulting explosion satisfied him that he'd destroyed it, he cruised underneath once more, tearing along the belly of the ship until he emerged at the prow. Instead of going after the cannons, he charged the bridge, machine guns blazing at the glass. When he was close enough, he pulled out his knuckle shield and delivered a single punch to the weakened glass. It shattered, sending the crew flying out into space. They had their normal suits on and Gato felt a bit sorry for them. A person spaced without a normal suit died fairly quickly. Being stranded in space in a normal suit meant the unlucky bastard would have several hours to contemplate his fate before running out of oxygen.

Well, not his problem.

A particle beam went over the right shoulder of his suit and he was snapped back to his own danger. He went upwards again, between the barrels of the cannons and too close to hit, then hit the thrusters towards the stern of the ship.

His target now was the engine, which he reached a second or two after his leap over the ruined bridge. He pulled out his beam sabers and slashed deep into the armour of the Salamis. A quick dig around made contact with the reactor. As soon as the telltale arcs of plasm started leaping out of the wound in the ship's skin, Gato launched his Gelgoog out into space again. He'd have about ten seconds until that thing blew.

And blow it did. Gato watched the ship explode through his rearview cameras. _I shouldn't have wasted so much time carving at it first,_ he scolded himself.

He looked ahead to see Cima and Isolda engaging three GMs. The Salamis was gone (_That's my girl!_ Gato thought to himself), but the Magellan was still alive and firing almost randomly, clearly just trying to reach Port Good Hope where help was not waiting. The Columbus fleet was hanging back like a crowd of terrified farm animals. Gato soared in, calling out, "I'm back!" and fired on the GM that was tangling with Cima. The pilot didn't see Gato's Gelgoog coming and he was able to fire into the cockpit easily.

"Welcome back," Cima told him as the second GM turned and ran back towards its companion, which was dodging and exchanging shots with Isolda. "Raake! Here!"

Isolda didn't answer, but her Gelgoog whipped backwards and sideways, firing all the while. Cima ducked behind Gato's back to deliver some blasts from her beam rifle at the Magellan, which took a hit to a missile launcher, causing a satisfying explosion. When Isolda had rejoined her teammates, they zoomed as one into the crowd of Columbus carriers. They each crouched on one and watched the GMs come towards them.

The GMs hesitated, then turned back towards the wounded Magellan. "Follow them," Cima said, and they abandoned their improvised shelter to chase them.

A few seconds into the pursuit, Cima shouted, "Up! Now!" Her Gelgoog shot "upward" and Gato and Isolda followed suit. As he "ascended", Gato saw light flashing under his Gelgoog's feet. There was a pause, then an explosion billowed outward. He looked to his right. The _Lili Marlene _was in sight, and it was her cannons that had dispatched the Magellan.

"Good work, boy and girl," Cima said. "Let the other pilots do crowd control on the cargo ships. You two go home. You earned a bonus today."

An exhausted Gato and Isolda docked on the _Vera Lynn_. Gato opened his hatch and waited until Isolda had done the same before leaping from his pilot's seat towards her. She collided against him in mid-air and started to protest before he silenced her lips with his own. He wanted to feel her against him. She tried to break away at first, but gave in very quickly and kissed him back. They ignored the laughter from the mechanics standing below on the deck or on the lifts.

"I had to leave you alone out there," he panted when they came up for air.

"I was all right," she insisted as they sank down to the deck. She smiled at him, grabbed his hand, and bounced as quickly as she could to the elevator.

Unlike the one from the hangar deck on the _Lili Marlene_, this one worked. At least, it did until the doors closed and they hit the "emergency stop" button. Isolda backed against the wall and Gato pressed himself against her again. Her arms went around his neck and her legs around his waist as she kissed him with a ferocity he'd never felt from her before, using her teeth as well as her lips and tongue, in an apparent need to devour him before it was too late. He countered with a hunger equal to hers; their hands moved of their own volition over the fastenings of their flight suits, stripping away what impeded their desire.

"Where the hell's the elevator?" snarled a crewmember three decks up after he'd stubbornly waited ten minutes. Finally he gave up and used the stairs.

Gato and Isolda took a minute to rearrange their clothes and catch their breath. "I never expected that from you," she said with a grin.

"Neither did I," he confessed quietly as he started the elevator again. It went down half a deck and the doors opened. "I'll see you after I shower."

He stopped at a window to gaze outside at the stars. Normally after a battle he'd be wrung out, having thrown every bit of passion from his deeply-passionate being into the act of combat. He knew his style; he went into battle spitting and swearing and directing his fury into his famously precise and lethal attacks. Afterwards he'd debrief as needed, go to his cabin, and fall asleep.

He'd been lethal, but he'd wasted time. Previously, he wouldn't have bothered to shoot at the guns of a Salamis. He'd just sword-dance the particle cannon and machine guns and strike the engine. He'd worried about Isolda, but in a way he'd never worried about Kelly or Karius. He'd always trusted their instinct and skills. That was stupid of him, not to mention insulting towards Lt. Raake. Finally, there was his reaction after they'd landed. Instead of wanting to curl into a ball and sleep, all he'd wanted to do was, well, _Isolda_.

He sighed deeply and closed his eyes. One thing was terribly clear. He had to get out of this fleet.

He went down the hall to his cabin door, which didn't open. Gato sighed again. He did not need his key to malfunction when all he wanted was some clean clothes and to bathe. He tried again and still got the little red light. He was trying a third time when the kid from Saba Island appeared behind him.

"Why are you trying to get into my room?"

Gato turned. "It's a cabin, and it's assigned to me."

"No it's not. Mr. Kosell said I could have it. I've been bunking with somebody else and he said this one was empty." To prove it, he produced his own key card, slid it through the lock, and opened the door effortlessly.

"Then where's my--?"

"Anavel!" Isolda came dashing down the hall in her bathrobe, "Your things are all in my locker. Your toothbrush is in my bathroom. What's going on?"

Gato glowered. "Cima's going on. They've changed my lock and Junior here has been given my cabin. Get dressed; we're going over to the _Lili_."

Kosell was on the bridge. He retained his usual inscrutable expression while Cima, still in her maid's costume and apparently enjoying it, grinned at them.

"Something wrong, Commander, Lieutenant?"

Gato looked up at Kosell. "I'd like to know why you put my things in Raake's cabin and reassigned mine."

Cima answered, "Well, it's not as if you were using it, Commander. These ships are too small for someone to use a cabin as a walk-in closet. We moved you because Isolda's so settled into hers. It's not as if you don't spend every night there already, am I right?"

"My private life isn't your concern!" The thought of Cima Garahau knowing where and with whom he chose to sleep felt like someone had just smeared a film of grease on his soul.

Cima's grin vanished. "It is when it impacts resources on this ship. That boy is an electrician and certified small engine mechanic. He couldn't find work on Saba Island, so he came to us. He's already managed to develop solutions for some of our non-functioning hardware. He earned his own room, so I gave it to him. You and Raake are practically married, so one cabin is enough for the two of you."

Behind Gato, Raake said, "One of us should have picked up a clue from the honeymoon suite. Thinking back, I should have gotten the joke."

Cima pointed to her executive officer. "That was his idea."

Raake turned. "Mr. Kosell! And here I was thinking you'd left your sense of humour in your other pants."

He shrugged massive shoulders. "I was looking in them for my keys."

"Anything else I can do for you?" Cima asked.

"No ma'am, that was my only concern," Gato said. He excused himself and left the bridge.

As they made their way back to the hangar deck, Isolda commented, "Well, it's not like we'll be together any more than we usually are."

"That's not the point. The point is, she's trying to dictate to us what our relationship is. I'm being forced into domestication. I don't like that one bit." He ground his teeth for a second than said, "Delaz must think I'm dead by now."

Nonetheless, while Gato's dilemma was intimately tied to Isolda, it was hardly her fault. They fell back into their usual routine; patrols, working out, card games with Teg and Gordy. And despite the way they'd been coerced into "marriage", when she settled into his arms at night and he felt her short, soft hair on his shoulder he felt at ease with the world in a way he hadn't since his best days on Solomon.

A little over a week later, they were given shore leave again. However, the port of call was not one that pleased Gato at all.

"What do you mean you're not going ashore with us?" Isolda asked.

Gato refused to be budged from his chair in the mess, where he was reading a book. "You heard me."

"But it's not some little bywater like Saba Island this time, Gato. It's Von Braun!"

He didn't look up at her. "That's the problem."

Isolda put her hands on her hips. "So you're going to stay cooped up here on the _Vera_ because your ex lives here? That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

"Not only that. There's a lot of bad associations. I spent time homeless here, worked a mind-numbing job at Anaheim here, and lastly my ex does live here, and this isn't so big a place that I might not run into her."

"Are you insane, man?" Teg suddenly spoke up. "Do you know what kind of an opportunity you'd be missing? If you run into this chick, and she tries to pull some wacky ex-girlfriend shit on you, you think Isolda here's going to put up with that? Woman's a tigress."

Isolda grinned and showed her teeth.

"And Anavel, buddy, that spells---CATFIGHT!"

Isolda dashed behind Gato's chair to grab Teg in a headlock. She knocked his cap off and proceeded to give him what she announced as "nuclear noogie." By the time they'd all stopped laughing, because to Gato's mild irritation it was contatgious, he'd run out of excuses not to go ashore without sounding neurotic.

Still, the fact was that it wasn't Nina he hoped to avoid. It was Kelly.

Their shore leave began much like the one on Saba, with better amenities. They repeated their shopping lists from their last leave, because even though they still had their toiletries of choice, they still didn't know when they would be able to buy them again. What interested them both more were the book and music stores. Gato felt more secure as soon as he was in the large bookstore he used to prefer when he lived in Von Braun; not only was he able to satiate his desire for reading material, he knew that Kelly would never set foot inside. The same with the café in which they spent their afternoon.

Still, every time they passed a public telephone, Gato felt a distinct weight on his heart. He longed to get together with Kelly for a beer. He wished he could introduce him to Isolda. Laetura would find her threatening, being as she would be another reminder of the threads still left hanging from the war, but Kelly didn't have to bring her along.

"What's wrong?" Isolda finally asked. "I know it's not your ex. You're too mature for that."

Gato finally acquiesced. "My friend Kelly Layzner. I wish I could see him. In a way, I feel like I'm cheating by not letting him know I'm here, but I can't."

"Why not?"

Gato met her gaze but lowered his voice to a whisper. "Last he heard, I was being taken by your fleet to..." He let his voice trailed off, fearing being overheard.

"Ah."

"I can't let him know that I haven't made it yet. He'll think I've deserted."

"Or that you've been hijacked."

Gato shook his head. "My situation looks too good. I'm sitting here in Von Braun, I'm in a mobile suit again, I have a beautiful, intelligent, _sane_ lover." He reached up and stroked her cheek. "The Jion community here is small. It'd get around. Heck, if I'm seen by one of those guys, the whole community will know by suppertime. I don't want people to think I've abandoned the cause, because I haven't. It still means everything to me."

She nodded. "I know how you feel. I sometimes wonder what it would be like to be back in Hoecksche Waard again, facing that kind of question. Not that I can ever go there again."

They returned to their hotel (they had taken camouflaged shuttles to the city) to drop off their purchases, then went out to the fightin' bar that had been chosen as official Cima Fleet watering hole.

It was in a basement, a large, low room beneath a business high-rise. Televisions were showing sports events, which was an advantage over the isolated Saba. The food and drink were considerably cheaper, the menu more extensive. It was loud, the tables wobbled, and there were colourful locals around. One was an old fellow Gato had actually seen sitting around on park benches during the day when he'd lived with Nina. He was called Old Fappy, a pudgy senior citizen with no teeth who liked to gum pretzels along with his beer.

The other was noticeable because he was a dwarf. He was only a meter high or so, with the normally-proportioned body that meant pituitary problems as opposed to a genetic failure. He was dark skinned, with black hair, brown eyes...and a jacket to which were sewn Jion combat patches. He was standing on a table telling a story which had attracted a crowd of fascinated listeners, unfazed by his thick Spanish accent.

"....No, no, you don't unnerstan'. This guy RAPED and KILLED 11 guys! That's why they got rid of the ethnic units on Jion, man."

Gato and Isolda looked up in shock, Isolda wiping her mouth where she'd spit out some of her beer.

"What the hell are you going on about?" asked a newcomer.

"Yeah, my cousin was in the King's Own Highlanders," Seamus called out.

"And me, I was in the 505th Royal Cuauhtemocs. Served bravely and well in the name of Prince Garma. But the 173rd Norsemen...that was a mistake. _Pues_ my mouth is dry. Somebody buy me a beer or I'm too dry to tell this story."

The beer was hastily produced.

"Okay. I'm a mechanic, so I talked on the 'net to other mechanics all over the Sovreignty. Exchange tips and tall tales, you know. Anyway, one day this guy I know over in Eastern Europe comes online, and he's got this horror story.

"Well, there'd been this big firefight with the Feddies. It was the 173rd and they got real sloppy sometimes. Colonel M'Quve needed 'em, but he was scared cause M'Quve, he was a really girly, skinny guy and these _chingases_ were eight, nine feet tall, something like that. He was afraid to give 'em booze, but you know those Norse dudes, they're gonna get their akvavit no matter what. And they DID. So the alarm comes, these guys are all are totally _borrachado_ and they gotta get into the Zakus. So they do.

Well these are big, mean guys like I said, and they're drunk as all hell. My buddy warned the biggest _pinchécabron_ of 'em all, his name Lars, his Zaku ain't right and he gotta take another. He don' listen, he takes out his own suit even though it was having a foot replaced and my buddy, he wasn't finished doing the replacement. So he goes off, foot on all loose, wobblin' all over the place, and they go right up in the Feddies' faces.

"So you can figure what happened. That damn foot come off, right? Ol' Lars though, what people don't know is he is in full berserker mode. With the booze an' the ancient spirit of the bear in him, cause the Northmen are like the werewolf or the nahuale you know, they become beasts, he's just crazy an' all he wants to do is kill. Well his Zaku falls over, so walks on that thing's knees, slashin' at the legs of these GMs okay? Then they fall over and the pilots, they open the hatch to run! Ol' Lars though, he tears one of the coolant pipes right out of his Zaku and starts grabbin' 'em and beating 'em and in the middle of it, he up and starts fucking them too! That's what you heard me say! By the time the other two guys in his team, now they're berserk too, but I guess they weren't as drunk, by the time they grab him with their own Zakus he's raped and killed 11 guys!

"Anyway, the news gets back to Zum City and they figure, _Oralé_. The Norsemen go nuts and they rape and murder 11 guys, what are we gonna do? Capture the Fedichos, take 'em to the top of the pyramid and offer their hearts up to Huitzilopochtli? Bad enough we brand our own feet. So they say, that's it, no more ethnic units. We still existed at the end of the war though. Now I got no mobile suit company to care for, so I'm just this unemployed Mexican dwarf. Anybody got a mechanic's job for me, I'm your boy. My name is Pablo Gonzalez Garcia, and here's my resumé."

Cima stood. "I'll take one of those, Mr. Garcia."

Pablo's eyes widened. "I give you anything you want, _mamacita_." He hopped off his table and handed one to her. She started to read it. "You got anything you want fixed?"

"What do you know about the Gelgoog Marine model?"

He peered up at her. "What a pretty lady like you doing with heavy mecha like that?"

"Answer the question," growled Deitrov Kosell.

"I never touched a Gelgoog. I worked with Zaku II Desert Types mostly, but also C, F, and J-Types too. And I'm qualified for Doms."

Cima hadn't taken her eyes away from the paper in her hand. "You're hired."

Pablo bowed deeply. "Muchas gracias. An' if I may so, _mamacita_, I got other uses than just in the mobile suit garage."

Deitrov Kosell swept in, snatched Pablo off his feet, and sent him flying across the room. He landed in a plate of french fries which sat in front of a hefty fellow who was watching football. Unfazed, he got to his feet and said, "Hey, I take worse than that on bets."

Kosell cracked his knuckles. "You've got a runny mouth for a short shank, and your tab's already due."

Pablo sniffed even as he brushed off his trousers. "A face like yours and you worried 'bout _my_ mouth, _puto_?"

"Why you--!" Kosell bolted in between rows of tables as other patrons tried to stop him; Pablo and his ribald stories were apparently a popular attraction. Kosell punched one of them hard, his victim's crony took a swing that impacted against the jaw of one of the Cima fleet crew...and the barfight began.

"Oh god," Gato muttered. To his shock, Isolda started rolling up her sleeves. He grabbed her hand and said, "What if we get arrested? We're pirates!"

"Cima's got an agreement with the police, I think," she said, and ran into the crowd after a fellow with a beer bottle who was swinging it at Gordy. Kosell was grappling with three locals. Pablo had scampered to the front of the room again and was sitting on the bar with Cima. They were both laughing.

"Hey, _cabron_!" yelled Pablo at the struggling Kosell. "You gotta stop hitting like my baby sister if you'se going to 'scape all those guys, _wey_!"

Gato grabbed his beer and put his back against a wall. His upbringing had not involved hooliganism, and he had to admit some nerves about how he was supposed to proceed against a gang of people he really had no quarrel with. The fight had spread to include about half the population of the bar and furniture was starting to fly. Teg, Gordy, and a woman Gato didn't recognize were furiously swinging chairs at a bunch of fellows in University of Luna Von Braun letter jackets. Kosell was sending bodies into tables, though for every one he tossed two more jumped him. Someone's girlfriend sprang at Isolda, who diverted the woman's leap in mid-air, sending her into the aisle. The boyfriend called Isolda a bitch and came after her with a table leg.

Okay, that was enough. Gato put his beer aside and used a hand to launch himself over a table, planting both feet in the man's midsection. He went down sideways onto the table beside him. Gato grabbed him by the collar and delivered a right cross to his jaw. Isolda was sending locals to the floor with practiced grace, and he had to admire how well she'd paid attention in hand-to-hand combat training as she cracked a bottle open on a third local's skull with the follow-through.

Suddenly, two guys slammed into him, knocking him to the floor. Kosell was coming after them, and Gato reflected for a moment that even in the heat of combat, the man's expression never changed. Then he noticed the table leg which Isolda's assailant had dropped. He picked it up and as Kosell reached down to grab the two men who had toppled Gato, he brought it across the executive officer's head yelling, "This is for beating me up when I first came to the ship! And so's this! And this is for introducing me to Isolda!" He shoved the club into Kosell's hand, leaving the big man looking confused for a change. As Gato returned to Isolda, Kosell was tapping it against the palm of his other hand, daring for the two men to get up.

Gato grabbed Isolda's hand and dragged her out, tossing a handful of bills onto the bar as he did so. Old Fappy kept gumming his pretzels although he stopped to mutter, "You damn kids, with your laser guns and Gundams..."

Isolda was laughing as they reached the street. "That was uncalled for," Gato growled. "That little fellow's going to have his ass handed to him by Kosell."

"Maybe. On the other hand, Cima's pretty good at calming him down. I just don't know why she jerks his chain like that. Or why he puts up with it."

"You've got french fries all over you," Gato observed, brushing her off.

"You've got ketchup in your hair," she said. "It makes it pink. Sort of cute on you."

Gato scowled.

"Are you mad?" she asked.

"Not at you. I feel misplaced. Not only am I not where I'm supposed to be, I'm back where I fucking started!"

Isolda gaped at him. "You said fuck."

"I've been torn away from the cause and dragged into a barfight!"

"You never say fuck."

"Dammit, Isolda, this is important!" He pounded his fist into a wall and winced as it rattled bones already bruised by his punching someone in the face. "Sometimes this is fun, I admit. Sometimes I almost think about staying. And I love you. But I'm going in circles, and that's something I cannot endure."

He turned away from her and walked down the street. Isolda watched him, then followed. She knew better than to take his hand.

Author's note: As I was doing the edits on this, "Barrett's Privateers" came on the net radio station I listen to...it's an omen I tell you, an omen!

Aside from that, I thought the barfight would be pure self-indulgence, but I found a way to tie it into the plot. Yippee! I can't take responsibility for either the existence of Ol' Fappy or the story Pablito is telling; both are inventions of my darling spouse and his perversely fertile imagination.

Pablito is, of course, post Quinto Sol at this point. He predates my return to Gundam fandom in 2001, since he was the "mini" for a luchador I invented for a fantasy wrestling league I used to be in. Which follows to a dedication:

For Dr. Wagner Sr, 1936-2004. _Qué en paz descanse_.


	6. privateer 6

Isolda Raake was carrying some reports down a corridor of the _Vera Lynn _ when the conference door opened and seven of the eight captains of the Cima fleet emerged. She stopped and saluted, noting with a combination of remorse and amusement how they tried to keep some kind of uniformity. Most had gone to civilian clothes, although whether or not they wore their rank insignia varied. The captain of the _Morocco _ wore a home-made version of his old Earth Attack khakis. It was a well-meant effort that ended up looking more like a costume than an official uniform.

Cima emerged last, trailed by Mr. Kosell who was carrying her briefcase. She noticed Isolda and told her to stand at ease. "I'm just here for the weekly captains' meeting," she said chattily. "Where's Gato? I thought you two were attached at the," her mouth twisted in a little smirk, "hip."

"He's in our quarters, I think,"

"Do I detect some trouble in paradise?"

"Nothing to be concerned about, ma'am."

Cima turned and gestured for Kosell to go on without her. "He's my best pilot. If there's some problem that might affect his job performance, I need to know about it."

"He's rather depressed, ma'am. I've been trying to pull him out of it, but not having much luck."

Cima rested her fan against her shoulder. "I might have some work in the near future that will cheer him up. Silly boy. Sometimes I think he has a crush on Old Baldy."

"You mean Admiral Delaz, ma'am?"

"I do. While I admit he does have a sort of paternal appeal if you're into that, I didn't think Gato swung that way. Still, it's the Universal Century, you never know."

Isolda said nothing.

"That was naughty of me," Cima went on. "I shouldn't cast aspersions on the sexual preferences of your husband. Captain Rosco will let you know when I need you two. Ta." She strolled off in the direction her executive officer had taken.

It wasn't until Isolda arrived at the office that she realized she'd been gripping the reports tightly enough to leave the imprints of her nails in the paper.

For his part, Gato had just returned from the shower and was changing into a fresh pair of jeans, a t-shirt, and the sweater he'd been living in since he came to the fleet. He went into the bathroom and started brushing his hair. When he put the brush down he stopped to examine some of the hair over his right ear. Even more grey. He'd been going grey since he was in high school, and at the time he hadn't minded. Now it made him feel old. Time was slipping away like sand through his fingers and there wasn't anything he could do about it.

He jumped slightly when Isolda came in. "Everything all right?" he asked conversationally, trying to keep irritation out of his voice.

"Just wanting to strangle Cima is all. I want to tell her, 'Lady, you're not funny'."

"I know." He finished tying his hair back and made his way to the bed. Since he'd moved in, the small room had become even smaller as they added storage lockers and cabinets to hold their combined possessions. He glanced around at them and said as a complete non-sequitur, "I have accumulated so much stuff since I got here."

Isolda joined him on the bed. "Cima mentioned needing the two of us soon. Maybe we'll be able to ask her for a bigger cabin." She rested her head against his shoulder. "I wonder how long it'll be before we can just take off on our own and settle down somewhere. I'm starting to think it's time for me to drop the Flying Dutchman act."

Gato looked down at her. "That's going to take preparation. We need money, new identities, not to mention a place to go."

"I was thinking about Side 6. It's neutral. I'd say Von Braun, but I know how you feel about that."

"Side 6." Gato had never been there and never paid it very much attention. "I don't know much about it."

"It's neutral, there's no language barrier, and there's work. It has everything we need."

Gato considered. For his future, all he could see ahead was more time with the Cima fleet. "I'm starting to wonder if Delaz will ever send for me. He left me for a whole year on Von Braun before."

"I remember."

Gato nodded. "Perhaps we should start to research it, to make sure it's a viable plan."

"If we lived on Side 6, our families could come to see us, since it's neutral. I'd eventually like kids, and they should know their grandparents."

"Let's not rush ahead that far." Gato squeezed her hand. "The first step is to do research on Side 6."

"All right." Isolda grinned at him. "Just a sec. I have to use the toilet."

She went into the little room and shut the door. It was only a minute, and when she emerged again, Gato was unable to explain why he was crying. To her credit, Isolda didn't ask, but held him until the tears stopped.

"I have a special treat for all of you today. This is a good mission. You'll like this one."

Cima grinned broadly as she addressed the assembled mobile suit pilots and two ship's captains. Gato hadn't had any contact with the _Dorothee Marsch _before. Their Musai was retrofitted for speed and specialized in drug running. That this ship had been taken off that detail to work with the _Lili Marlene_ and _Vera Lynn_ indicated that this was going to be a strange task ahead.

Cima continued, "We've intercepted some intelligence about a cargo shipment going to Kyonpei Island. From the manifests, we've found out that it's carrying mobile suit munitions compatible with our own. The Federation has been using Jion intellectual property so the standards on their new mecha and our old stuff are coming together. Getting this cargo would be a real help to us, getting money in order to make more money, as it were.

"Now, what makes this mission unusual is that they're disguising the ships as civilian cargo vessels. This means the three cargo ships themselves are camouflaged, as are any escorts. We're showing a Magellan and its accompanying mobile suits. That's a pretty heavy escort, which is why I'm having three ships share the joy in this particular mission rather than the usual one or two. If they have six mobile suits, we're going to need nine, at least. Now, this is what's going to make this mission particularly interesting: they're routing this convoy out of Side 3."

Gato felt his mouth dry up. "Jion!" he couldn't help exclaiming.

His was not the only reaction. Cima let the noise die down before saying, "Yes. Part of this is going to be a big political message to the people of Earthsphere, something I never thought I'd find myself doing. The Republic is supposed to be independent, but it's being used as a Federation supply base. A military escort for some civilian cargo isn't too out of the ordinary; there has after all been some pirate activity in the colonies over the past few months, but this is the military escorting the military's own ships and it's going too far. We're going to show them up."

Cima proceeded to set out how the attack would work. Gato listened, mentally preparing the protest and warning he was going to give to Captain Rosco at the earliest possible opportunity.

As the briefing broke up, he excused himself from Isolda quickly, not stopping to apologize when he tripped over her feet getting out of their row of seats. He went straight to Rosco's executive officer and said what he needed to say. The executive officer immediately took him over to the captain.

"It's a trap," Gato told her.

Rosco nodded. "Yes, it is. Cima knows it, that's why we're using three ships to intercept this cargo."

"No. If my gut instinct is right, and I didn't survive this long without it being right most of the time, there is no cargo. The entire thing is a trap. We need to avoid this at all costs."

The sound of Gato's voice attracted Cima. "What's going on?"

"Lieutenant Gato has some concerns," Captain Rosco told Cima. "I'll let him tell them to you."

Gato nodded. "Ma'am. When I was at Solomon, we encountered a convoy similar to this one. We weren't interested in taking the supplies for ourselves, as they were incompatible with anything we used; the important thing was to keep them from getting to the Feddies. Well, it turned out that there weren't any supplies in there at all. The Columbi, if that's a word, were all just hollow shells with the Federation's new GMs hiding inside. We still won, but it was a near thing. If the Feddies are carrying out such a plan again, we aren't going to be in a position of strength against them."

Cima looked down at the floor, swinging her fan in an arc. "Our intelligence on this is solid. There have been cargoes going out of Side 3 lately, and they've been attacked by what appear to be Jion holdouts, bless their little souls. I am expecting this to be a trap, but given the details on the ships' manifests, I don't think that's all it is."

"It doesn't feel right to me, ma'am. I mean, think about it. It's as if this was deliberately calculated to catch our attention. Side 3 as a supplier for the Federation military, and a load of arms that we can use?"

"Side 3 is close to Kyonpei, and there is no saying it's that ammo's final destination."

"They have to know that Side 3 is on all of our minds, and I'm sure they're well aware of the emotional weight Solomon carries with many of us. It's a trap, I tell you."

"I admit that your instincts are good, Lieutenant, or you'd be frozen dead meat in space rather than the 'Nightmare of Solomon'. Still, if it's a choice between the data we've received and your instincts, I'd rather rely on data. I want that shipment of ammo. Unless I see something concrete to change my mind, the operation will go on as planned. I'll give you the option of sitting this one out, if you want."

Gato considered her offer for a moment. "No thank you. If this turns out badly, you'll need my services."

Days later, as he sat in his Gelgoog, Gato was further worried by all the otherwise comforting debris left over from the remains of Side 4. "Too easy," he muttered to himself as he waited for the command to attack.

"What's too easy?" he heard Isolda ask.

He extended a hand to her to initiate skin talk. "I've got a bad feeling about this. As I've said to Cima and Captain Rosco, this is all too perfectly set up for us to attack. When the fight comes, stay close to me, all right?"

"I trust you," she said.

Within the hour, the convoy made its presence known. From behind the piece of colony he and Isolda were using as cover, Gato could spot the Magellan class, three Columbus class ships, and two GMs bringing up the rear. Several minutes later, the _Lili Marlene, Vera Lynn,_ and _Dorothee Marsch _hove into view from three different directions.

"_Attention, Federation convoy. This is Lt. Colonel Cima Garahau. You are in violation of the Granada Treaty of 0080, using the Republic of Jion as a base for your own fleet. We represent the Jion government in exile and intend to retaliate. We will take your cargo; it is up to you how difficult this will be. You have five minutes to leave the Columbus class ships."_

Gato knew Cima didn't seriously expect the Magellan and its GMs to just pull away obediently. However he also knew she didn't expect the joints of the Columbus class ships to suddenly separate and the walls to float off into the vacuum, revealing a Salamis Kai and six more mobile suits.

Isolda swore in Dutch. Gato slammed his fist down on the console.

"Cima! You stupid bitch!" He knew the fleet commander couldn't hear him, but wouldn't have cared if she did. He radioed Isolda to say, "We engage the suits and get close to that Salamis. I'll see if I can take it out."

" _Roger."_

A full-scale mobile suit battle had begun between the closest Gelgoogs scattered around the area and the GMs which had emerged from the dummy Columbus. As ever, Gato was able to get off one perfect shot as he came out from under cover, blowing the head off one GM while a second shot from Isolda struck the cockpit. He dodged fire from the Magellan, whose turrets were striking in all directions. Pieces of colony debris exploded into pieces all around him and Isolda, giving them an extra hazard to avoid.

Despite skill and experience, Gato still had a nasty moment when a chunk of colony tore off and smacked directly into him. He saw the world outside whiz past him as his Gelgoog tumbled, as well as Isolda's covering fire when the Feddies tried to make him into a target. He pulled out of his spin just in time to see one of the Musais' hull crack open, spill light through the cracks, and explode in a flash.

"Tell me that wasn't the _Vera,"_ he panted into his mike. A moment later he heard Cima's voice say, _"Goddamit, we just lost the _Dorothee!"

"Time to get our own back," he said, and hit his thrusters towards the Salamis Kai, which was cruising unerringly behind the Magellan. No dancing around main guns this time; he was headed straight for the bridge. He counted on speed to avoid fire from the GMs, plus his other screens were showing that the 'Corona Razor' was blasting away unerringly at the enemies who would stand in his way.

He threw himself right at the Salamis, holding his breath as he avoided its cannons until he was too close for them to hit him. He pulled out his beam sabre and thrust downward through the bridge, into the engines. He waited until the telltale sparks began to jump through the wound he'd struck, then launched himself away as fast as he could. Isolda hadn't followed him in, but rejoined him on the other side of the ship.

He was headed into a dogfight between Cima Fleet and Federation suits as the Salamis Kai went down. Sheathing his beam sabre, he pulled his machine cannon and added his own fire.

" _Gato, look out! "_ Isolda called as two GMs came at them from the right. Isolda had a two-second advantage on Gato, and immediately opened fire on them. Gato spun around from his previous target and did the same, but felt a lucky shot strike his Gelgoog's right leg. He compensated as quickly as he could for the damage and added his fire to Isolda's, although it was her intact suit that was able to go in close with a beam sabre in her hand to take on the nearest GM. Gato fell back to cover her, watching in admiration as she dueled the GM, finally slicing off one arm and driving her sabre into the mobile suit's chest.

" _Attention all hands,"_ Cima's voice came through his helmet. _" We're retreating. There's nothing useful to us here. I repeat, we're retreating."_

The only fight Gato'd ever left unfinished was A Bao A Qu. He'd hoped that it would be the only such retreat in his career, but decided quickly that he didn't care. Lesser of two evils. They shouldn't have been out there to begin with, and now they had a dead ship to show for it.

They fled, with the Jion suits in formation behind the retreating _Lili Marlene_ and _Vera Lynn_. The Magellan and remaining GMs didn't pursue for long. They had their own losses to cope with and Gato figured they felt they'd spanked the pirates enough.

"Go ahead to the _Vera_," Gato told Isolda. "I'm going to the _Lili_."

" _Anavel, don't do this. "_

"Someone has to, Isolda."

" _Let someone else be the one. "_

"Like that big lapdog of hers? I don't think so." He continued onward towards the _Lili_.

" _Chin_ -fucking-_gao_ ," Pablo Gonzalez Garcia swore as the pilots brought in their mobile suits. Gato watched as the diminutive mechanic used a lift to examine the Gelgoog's leg. "Hey Gato, ain't you suppose to be on the _Vera _?"

"Yes. I'm here on business."

"Well don' worry man, cause you brought your 'Goog to the right place. I'm gonna fix her up for you good."

Gato marched to the bridge in his flight suit. The doors opened to reveal that the command chair was empty.

"Where's Cima?" he demanded.

Gordy took one hand away from the wheel to point behind him. "Conference room. But I wouldn't—"

"Thanks."

Gato did a low-gee bounce down the hall and into the conference room. He figured that Cima would be backed into a corner, but what he did not expect was that it would be the normally mellow Captain Rosco doing it.

"…Cost me two of my mobile suits! This isn't your own personal queendom, Cima, and you're not omniscient."

"This is insubordination!"

"Why so it is!" Rosco noticed Gato in the doorway. "What are you doing here?" she snapped.

"I told you so, Cima," Gato snarled, ignoring his captain. "I told you it was a trap. You wouldn't listen, you're so blinded by greed."

"Not greed, _need _!" she shouted right back. "I was wrong, I admit it, but our intel was solid. All there was going against it was your say-so, you Academy richie. You just didn't want to take on that Magellan is my bet."

"Oh, that's good," Gato retorted, glancing over at Rosco. His captain was glaring, her jaw tight. He was going to get it good when he returned to the _Vera _and he didn't care. "What the hell do you know about real combat, Cima? Have you ever gone into a battle without setting it up with dirty tricks and running away? Have you—"

"Gato, NO!" came a familiar voice from behind him. Isolda leapt from the doorway onto his back and clamped a hand over his mouth. Gato threw her off and next thing he knew, he was being slammed back into the bulkhead by Kosell. Gato waited for Kosell to start banging his head against it, but instead Kosell leaned forward and said, "No domestic violence on my watch, Gato. I saw enough of that shit as a Mahal City cop."

Gato said nothing.

"If I let you go, you gonna hit the wife?"

"She's not my wife. And no."

"Good man." Kosell let go. "Raake, you okay?"

"Yes, sir, I'm fine." Isolda was on her feet again. Her expression was black but she seemed otherwise unharmed.

Cima spoke up. "Lt. Gato, you are being—"

Kosell raised a finger into her face. "You be quiet. You got us into this mess." He looked back at Gato. "You got a lot here to be mad about. Take the next three days off. Isolda, you too. We can't bring the _Dorothee_ back, but we can all turn ourselves back into human beings." When Gato and Isolda stood there gaping, he said, "You heard me. Scram!"

Gato returned to the _Vera Lynn_ in Isolda's mobile suit, leaving his in the capable hands of Pablo Gonzalez, who already had the leg off and on the floor for repairs. Once they were back in their quarters, Isolda said, "You're forgiven for throwing me. I shouldn't have jumped on you from behind like that."

"Sorry," he muttered, and lay down on the bunk in his normal suit. "Bad enough I'm stuck with pirates, I'm stuck with incompetent pirates now."

To her own shock, Isolda almost wanted to defend her fleet. She realized immediately how bizarre that was, and reached for her bathrobe. Gato's pride was wounded and the frustration had to be at an all time high. _Let him stew_, she thought as she left for the shower.

Three days later, Teg and Gordy were playing dominoes in the galley when Isolda walked in.

"Hey girl, what's going down? Where's Gato?" Gordy asked.

Isolda ran her fingers through her hair and sighed. "Remember when you were over two nights ago and he was being difficult?"

"He was being fucking PMS Boy," Teg opined. "No offense intended, he just was."

"Yeah, I know. Well it hasn't let up and I have to live with him. It hasn't been fun; I've volunteered for double shifts because of it."

"That's bad." Gordy pushed his chair back and patted his upper thigh. Isolda sat down on it gratefully. "He still wailing, hooting, and yodeling about the One Year War?"

"Yes."

Teg spit brown tobacco juice into a bottle. "Yeah, I mean, come on, Gato, I'm glad you had your glory days back at Solomon before we got our asses handed to us at A Bao A Qu, but we all gotta move on."

"He blames Kishiria for killing Giren."

"Well that's gonna do us a lotta good." Teg shook his head, rolling his eyes. "Maybe if he gets her to admit it, Giren'll come back to life?"

"He's gotta bring her back to life first, and he's got a hell of a way with women, obviously." Gordy chimed in. "He's really been ranting for three days?"

Isolda sighed. "When he's not lying there with the covers over his head he's pacing and bitching about being kept away from the grand mission of restoring the glory of Jion and getting Mineba Zabi back on the throne."

"Oh yeah, that's gonna happen," Teg said.

"Feel free to tell him," Isolda responded.

Meanwhile, Gato was lying on the bunk in their cabin, just as Isolda had described. He hadn't felt the inclination to move since the ambush. He felt heavy and tired. There was no reason to get up, so he didn't.

Isolda was avoiding him, which was her right. He'd apologized for throwing her and she didn't seem angry, but he couldn't blame her for not wanting to be around him.

He was about to close his eyes and go back to sleep when the phone rang. He answered it, much though he didn't want to.

" Gato? Kosell. We need you on the _Lili Marlene_. You gotten up or bathed lately? "

This was much too small a community, he reflected again. Gato sniffed inside the collar of his t-shirt. "No."

" Isolda is a lucky girl, ain't she? Well you better get yourself out of bed and cleaned up. Cima wants to see you in her office on the _Lili_."

"What does she want?"

" I didn't ask, but she's waiting for you. "

"All right. I'll be there shortly." Gato grunted, sat up, and stumbled over to the locker for fresh clothes.

Just the sight of the hall leading down to Cima's quarters was enough to make Gato nervous. The first time he'd visited her there, he'd received a beating from Mr. Kosell and the second time a joint scolding with Isolda. As he knocked, he wondered what humiliation awaited him this time.

"Come in!"

Gato obeyed. Cima was grinning at her computer, as it played her a music file of a male voice singing in a language he didn't understand. At the end, Cima turned her grin to him.

"One of my fans sent it to me. Remember I told you they write songs about this fleet? Case in point."

Gato sat down in front of her desk. "You have fans. I can't get over that."

"So do you, incidentally. There's a little page you should look at out of Granada. But yes, I think my whole Black Irish bad girl image appeals to people in their dull little lives. Here's the transcription." She turned the screen to him and played the file again.

_Óro sé do bheatha bhaile,_

_Óro sé do bheatha bhaile_

_Óro sé do bheatha bhaile_

_Anois ar theacht an tsamraidh_

_Cima ag teacht thar sáile,_

_Óglaigh armtha léi mar gharda_

_Jion iad féin ni Fed ni Axis,_

'_S cuirfidh said ruaig ar Ghalaibh ._

"What's it mean?" Gato said after the song, which was four verses long, ended. "I can tell it's Irish Gaelic, but that's it."

She leaned back, still grinning. "Cima is coming across the ocean with armed soldiers for protection. They're not Fed or Axis but Jion and will chase off the invader." She shook her head a little. "There's people out there thinking of _us _ as the last bastion of Jion. It strikes me as deeply weird." She looked up at him. "You're bristling. You're so cute when you do that, Commander."

"There are others who fit the description more appropriately, in my mind."

"Which is why I called you here. I received this note from our countrymen today." She handed him the printout of an e-mail.

_To: __cimacimafleet.mil.jion_

_From: __admiraltyJFBthorngarden.mil.jion_

_Re: no subject_

_Date: 13 November 0081_

_PRODUCE THE NIGHTMARE. YOU HAVE 30 DAYS. _

_Coordinates of the drop-off point are below._

_Sieg Jion _

Gato handed it to her. "Thirty days? Is that enough time to get me across occupied space? Or will you be requiring another six months?"

"That depends on you. I'm willing to make this employment permanent."

Gato glared at her. "You have got to be kidding."

Cima looked mildly surprised. "I admit that you were right and I was wrong about that convoy. It cost us dearly and I have to live with that. You proved your worth to us yet again."

Gato's gaze was steady. "You have nothing to offer me."

"I also admit that life in the fleet can be uncomfortable when supplies run low. Do you think it's going to be any better at the Thorn Garden?"

"My material comforts are of little concern to me."

"You get to continue your war against the Feddies with if you stay with us. I played you the song; we're the continuation of the spirit of Jion. I also know you've made friends here. What about your wife?"

"I don't remember exchanging wedding vows with Lt. Raake. Neither does she. I resent having my personal life manipulated for the convenience of others."

"That's strange. From all I've heard about you, you've let that happen all your life."

Gato gaped.

"Well, it's true, isn't it?" Cima pressed on.. "Anavel Gato's never controlled his own destiny. He's the passive recipient of the Crown's pleasure. Tell me, if the government in exile on Axis hadn't sent Tetley to connect you with Delaz, would you still be living under a bridge? I think you would be."

Gato snapped to his feet. "I was raised too well to ever strike a woman, Garahau. If I weren't…"

"I have three brothers and grew up in Mahal, Gato, and I've taken Marine hand-to-hand combat training. I'd hand you your little Academy ass." She crossed her arms. "As for not hitting a woman, fine. You'll go out of your way to break their hearts though, won't you? You don't care, as long as it's for the greater glory of Jion. I don't think I'd call that gentlemanly." She waved a hand at him dismissively. "Take a day to think about your decision. Until then, get out of my sight."

Gato returned to the _Vera Lynn _in a red cloud of rage. How dare that genocidal whore judge him? How dare she? What kind of madwoman was she to think that even for a moment he'd consider abandoning the cause of a free Jion for a few meals and a warm bed? He wanted to be returned to Delaz, and he wanted to be returned immediately.

When he opened the door to their cabin, Isolda was changing into her workout clothes. He watched in silence as she slid her tight athletic singlet over her bare torso, taking in her freckled pale skin, the flow of her muscles, the soft auburn hair under her arms and the firm perfection of her breasts.

"What did Cima want?" she asked.

"Sit." He took her hand and they sat on the bunk together. "Isolda, I came to this fleet so that I could be returned to the Delaz forces. Cima hijacked me, and I suppose she's been making excuses as to my whereabouts. Delaz appears to have gotten tired of not having received me, because he sent her a note saying to produce me within 30 days."

"Does Delaz know that Cima has you?"

"I don't think so. He probably suspects, but I don't think he knows for certain."

"If that's the case, you can stay, right?"

"I wasn't planning on it."

Isolda pulled her hand out of his.

"Isolda, I thought you'd be happy for me," Gato said.

She stood and faced him, hands on her hips. "I thought we had some kind of life together. Now you tell me you want to end it and go off on a wild goose chase?"

"Isolda, getting to Delaz was the only reason I came to Cima. You know that. I work for her because it was a choice between that or being spaced, you said it yourself."

"So you had to come on board, and you had to work for Cima. Did you have to sleep with me too? What made that necessary?"

"We did say that this would bring drama into our lives, didn't we? Here it is!"

"Oh, that makes everything all right. You told me you loved me in Von Braun!"

"I did, and I meant it, but this is something I must do."

Her green eyes bored into his for a moment before she looked away and said, "You're right. I should have seen this coming a long time ago."

Gato took her hand again. "It'll be all right, Isolda, you'll see. Admiral Delaz is a great man. Between what's left of our forces and Axis, we will regain our country."

"When that happens, will there be a place for me? Will there be amnesty for the people of this fleet after what we did in the war?"

"I don't see why not."

"I do."

Gato raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. "It'll all work out. I know it."

Isolda put her other hand on his shoulder. "I envy your certainty."

Gato smiled. "I'll tell Cima to get ready to send me off."

Isolda looked down at her lap, tears in her eyes. "I guess it'd be stupid to spend our last days together torturing each other."

"Agreed. Let's keep this as happy as we can."

Gato went to stand, but Isolda put her arms around his neck and wouldn't let go. Gato held her tightly, feeling her warm breath in his hair and the curves of her body against him.

Isolda finally whispered, "Go tell Cima," and released him. He paused to squeeze her fingers before he turned away.

"I'm disappointed, but can't say I'm surprised," Cima told Gato when he informed her of his decision.

"How long before we can rendezvous with the Delaz Fleet?"

Cima called a chart of Earthsphere onto her computer. A moving dot marked the_Lili Marlene_'s position. "Four days. They'll send a ship for you; we won't be flying you all the way to the Thorn Garden."

"What shall I do in the mean time?"

"If you could keep flying patrols, I'd appreciate it. We don't have any missions between now and then. We also need to find a new wingman for Isolda, but Rosco will take care of that."

"Yes, ma'am."

She looked at him pointedly. "So, any regrets?"

Gato opened his mouth to blurt out, "These months you've stolen from me!" but closed it again. Except for the lost time, he didn't have a lot to complain about. He resented being turned into a pirate, but it _had_ gotten him behind the controls of a Gelgoog again. Getting behind the controls of a Gelgoog had in turn brought him Isolda.

Isolda. Now there was a regret, but not one to be voiced to Cima.

"I regret the delay in getting back to my mission," Gato said.

Cima sniffed. "After the way I was treated, you can have your precious mission."

Gato leaned forward. "Yes, I've heard a lot about how the Cima fleet was used for crimes against humanity and then discarded. Tell me one thing, though, Cima, if that's the case, why do you still wear the uniform?"

Cima's brow furrowed. He'd hit a nerve.

"I don't have anything else to wear," she answered him coldly. "Why don't you go spend the rest of your time here with Isolda?"

Gato didn't see Cima again for the duration of his stay. Isolda had a few meetings with Captain Rosco and two flights with her new wingman, of which she said little. Otherwise they were together, trying to tie up the loose ends of their affair.

The time of Gato's departure arrived both too soon and too early. Isolda slumped on their bed like a melting wax figure as she watched him put on his uniform.

Gato ran a thumb inside his waistband. "My pants fit me again."

"Good."

He sat down on the bed beside her. "I'm sorry, Isolda. You know this must be done."

Isolda glared. "I've noticed that when you give me that sort of line you start talking like a robot."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"There you go, doing it again," she snapped. "You know damn well what I mean, and if you switched off the Good Jion Officer program for a moment and turned back into Anavel Gato maybe you'd even be able to acknowledge it for a second."

Gato inhaled sharply as if he'd been struck in the diaphragm. He turned away from her for a moment, then looked back into her eyes.

"We've had this conversation and I really don't feel like having it again right now," he told her. "I know, I'm taking a big risk and giving up a lot to do this, but we Jions have a chance, a real chance, Isolda, to get our country back. I can't tell you how I know that, but I do, and it has something to do with what I was doing on Luna. I can't say any more than that, but I'm basing all this on something concrete, something I saw with my own eyes." He reached up to touch her face and she didn't pull away. "I know I talk about the glory of Jion a lot, and I mean it, with all my heart, but Isolda…Isolda, _I want to see my mom and dad again ._"

She gazed down into her lap. "I wonder if my favourite bars are still open. Van Houte's on Kennedy and 4th in Hoeksche Waard, for instance."

"If it is, you'll take me there," Gato said. "Look." He went to his duffle and pulled out a notebook and an envelope. He copied an address from the envelope and brought her the sheet of paper. "This is my parents' current address. After all this, you'll be able to contact me through them, if you can't find me again on your own."

She took the address and smiled wanly. "Considering I'm not a New Type, I'm sure I'll have to use it."

Gato snorted. "Like those things exist. Use the address. I've got some favourite watering holes I'd like to take you to as well."

The silence became heavy in the cabin. Finally Isolda said, "You'd best be leaving. Let me get my shoes on."

Teg and Gordy were waiting outside. "Thought we'd walk you to the shuttle," Gordy said.

There wasn't much to say. A small craft was in the hangar, ready to go. Gato shook hands with Teg and Gordy and was about to put his arms around Isolda when a very large object floated down to them.

"Mr. Kosell!" Gato exclaimed, half surprised, half wary.

"Wanted to say 'bye," he said. "You've been the best pilot we've had, and you ain't deserved a lot of what happened to you here."

"How's Cima taking this?" Gato asked.

"Ah, she's pissed, but she'll get over it. We lasted this long without you, we'll last again once you're gone. She'll just have to take up more of the risky parts again. Anyway, thanks and good luck." He extended a hand the size of a porterhouse steak to Gato, who shook it.

Finally, he turned to Isolda, and the three men had the good taste to leave them alone for a few minutes. They exchanged a few words and held each other for a long time before they kissed goodbye and Gato turned to enter the shuttle.

"Okay, Lieutenant," said the pilot, "grab a seat and as soon as you're strapped in, we'll be going."

"Where should I put my bag?"

"Take one of the empty lockers at the back of the cockpit."

Gato located one and slid his duffle inside. He hopped over to one of the seats at the rear of the shuttle cockpit and fastened his seatbelt. The pilots began the pre-flight routine and Gato thought to himself, why couldn't we just have done it this way the last time? As the hangar doors opened and the shuttle began accelerating towards empty space, he realized that he might have come to the Cima fleet as a package to be deliver, but like it or not, he'd become one of them.

Frankly, he didn't like it. He leaned back in his seat, arms crossed, feeling the texture of the green gabardine of his uniform. His left hand felt bare without its Academy ring, but he knew the woman who had it would take good care of it until the day she could slide it back onto his finger.

They were two hours out from the Thorn Garden, but Gato was too excited to read or nap. He leaned back in his seat, watching the space ahead as the pilots maneuvered carefully through the natural and human-made debris that was the base's protective cover.

Finally, they broke through and the Thorn Garden lay before him. Gato raised an eyebrow. Even though he'd heard that the latest Jion base was jerry-rigged from parts of disused colony, he hadn't been prepared for how ugly the result would be. An open colony cylinder showed signs of life in the front half of the tube, the other half gaping like a spiral binding yanked from a photocopied text. The livable part of the cylinder had its front tip jammed into an asteroid. Gato couldn't tell by looking at it if it was part of the colony or just to hold the cylinder in place. The whole assembly didn't appear very stable.

The dock still worked at least, opening up when the pilots of the shuttle commed the tower. Gato gripped the arm of his seat as they followed the lights inside.

The shuttle stopped and Gato knew the doors behind them were closing. He waited impatiently as the atmosphere was regularized, tapping one booted foot against the deck. As soon as they got the signal, he undid his belt and launched himself backwards towards the locker where his duffle was stored. He grabbed it and bounced to the door.

There was an ensign standing expectantly a short distance from the shuttle. Gato looked at her, then over his shoulder. "Thanks for the ride," he said finally, and floated towards the ensign.

She snapped to attention and saluted. "Lt. Gato, sir! I'm Ensign Morris; I've been ordered to see you to your quarters, and to Admiral Delaz."

Gato returned the salute. "Thank you. But would it be possible to take me to the admiral first, and take my bag to my quarters while I'm with him?"

She considered. "Well…I do have the key."

"I'll owe you a favour."

She smiled and nodded; the idea of being owed a favour by the 'Nightmare of Solomon' himself had to be a heady one. "Yes, sir. Follow me."

The asteroid turned out to be part of the base after all. Several elevator rides later, Gato found himself following Morris down a long corridor to another elevator. He didn't mind the walk. He was surrounded by his people. Green and khaki uniforms in good repair were the norm, although he did spot one Lieutenant Commander in a strange purple, black, and gold uniform. Gato rolled his eyes. He'd never approved of the rule that allowed aces to pick their personal colours. What could be better than to be immediately recognizable as a Jion soldier?

Morris led him down the hall to tall double doors on which were engraved the crest of the kingdom. Gato stood for a moment, looking up at it, feeling his eyes sting a little. Finally. Finally.

"I'll meet you back here later, sir," the ensign said. "Admiral Delaz is waiting for you."

The guards, properly attired in dark-green uniforms with polished helmets and rifles over their shoulders, pushed the doors open for him. At once, Gato felt uneasy. He'd expected to be admitted to a large and well-apportioned office, but this was a throne room. The chamber was about forty yards long, with a high ceiling, draperies concealing side doors. A red carpet stretched down the centre to a dais on which Aguille Delaz sat, a bust of Giren Zabi on a pillar behind him.

Gato approached, squelching his rising discomfort, burying it under ritual. He stopped, snapped to attention, and said, "Lieutenant Anavel Gato reporting for duty, sir!"

Delaz didn't return the salute. He smiled and said, "At ease, Lieutenant. It's been a long time."

"It has indeed, sir."

"One and a half years. It seems like centuries. Living in exile does draw out the time."

_You have no idea,_ Gato thought. _You weren't the one freezing under a bridge in Von Braun. You weren't the one staring endlessly into that paper shredder, waiting for a lone line drawing of a Gundam. You weren't the one spending the past few months among pirates ._

Then it struck him that he was alive because of this man and felt ashamed.

"It'll all be worth it if we can bring back the glory of Jion, sir," Gato said.

"Your efforts towards the goal fill me with every confidence," Delaz went on. "The plans you sent us of the new Gundams the Federation are building have become the keystone of our strategy. I hope you won't think that piloting one of them will in any way besmirch you."

Gato was puzzled for a moment, then asked, "You want me to pilot one of them?"

"It will be necessary to liberate one for the cause. You are the obvious choice for this mission."

_Well, that and four months on a pirate ship,_ Gato thought, not liking this sarcastic new voice in his head. "You know I will succeed, sir."

Delaz stood and went down the steps of the dais to Gato. He put his hand on the younger man's shoulder and said, "I know that you've had to endure a great deal since A Bao A Qu fell. The separation from family and homeland is hard on all of us, but at least here in the Thorn Garden we're all Jions among Jions. You're here now, Gato. Being among the Feddies and Lunarians is over."

Delaz reached into his pocket and drew out a small box. "This is overdue. Would you remove your present rank insignia, Lt. Commander Gato?"

Gato blinked again, then reached up to undo the lieutenant's pips from his collar. He stood still as Delaz pinned the new ones on. They saluted and shook hands. "Welcome home," Delaz said, and embraced him.


End file.
